Different Directions
by paperplane1
Summary: Picks up where the series left off ...
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own My So-Called Life.**

_Jordan must have started the car because Brian's reflection in the side mirror was getting smaller. I couldn't get my dad's words out of my mind; like what he said about how difficult it was … to be a man._

Jordan was dividing his attention between the road and Angela. She was leaning against the window with one hand against the glass and the other resting in her lap. He became kind of transfixed by the way she was running her thumb across her fingertips as if caressing an invisible strip of silk.

"So, are you hungry?"

_I heard him but it was like he was on the other side of this glass divide, and I couldn't answer because he wouldn't hear me or something. I was in an alternate universe where Brian Krakow actually had feelings and Jordan Catalano didn't just want to be friends anymore. Then the car hurtling toward us at the cross roads started to seem right somehow. I wasn't afraid because I wasn't even there._

"Angela!"

Angela felt strong hands on her shoulders pull her down until her face almost came into contact with her knees. She felt Jordan's weight hard against her and heard his sharp intake of breath, which drew her back to reality. It was only a split second before she felt it; the shock from the initial impact resonated through her entire body. There was a screeching noise as the back of the car swung around with such velocity that its journey was only brought to an end by an obliging lamppost. She heard a cry – and then there was silence.

--

Patty picked up the glass and the plate and took them to the sink. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window and wiped a smudge of mascara from beneath her eye. She wasn't sure why she'd cried, but she was almost certain it wasn't because Tony Poul failed to show; he would probably have a beer gut by now anyway. Shaking her head in disbelief at her own absurdity, Patty's thoughts were disrupted by the sound of sirens passing by the house. A dizziness came over her and a fear that she couldn't shake as she tidied away the makings of Jordan's sandwich. Suddenly, without reason, but stirred by an intuition she couldn't explain, she ran out of the house, jumped into her car and made set to follow in the direction of the sirens. She was prevented from starting the ignition by a tapping at the window and the opening of the passenger door.

"Can I come along?"

Brian took Patty's slightly befuddled nod as agreement, so he climbed into the car alongside her. In that moment Patty and Brian each recognised the same inexplicable panic in the other. Patty quickly started the engine.

Not far down the street they came across the scene. At the crossroads where two normally quiet residential streets met the lights of a fire engine, a police car and two ambulances threw an eerie light across the streets and surrounding houses. A small crowd had gathered, mainly of the nearby residents, many of them still in their slippers. Patty and Brian edged forward through the people until Patty caught a glimpse of the red convertible wrapped around the lamppost and spun back in horror, bumping into Brian who was transfixed by the sight. The other car was lying on its roof and firemen were in the process of cutting out the driver. Turning to the red convertible, Brian saw that paramedics were huddled together on the driver's side of the car. Brian jostled for position in the crowd, but his view was still obstructed. Then his attention was drawn by a figure emerging from the back of one of the ambulances. He immediately recognised Angela as she broke away from the paramedic attempting to hold her back and raced to join the group gathered next to the car.

"Angela!"

Patty pushed passed Brian and the two policemen who tried to get in her way. Angela looked up as she approached and stood, allowing herself to be embraced by her mother.

Brian observed Angela's face was cut in several places and her arm had been put in a sling. His view was blocked by one of the policemen who placed a hand on his shoulder, "do you want through son? Is she a friend of yours?"

The policeman stepped aside and offered to let Brian past him. The paramedics beside the car had finally begun to dissipate. Two were left carrying a stretcher; Angela broke away from Patty to follow beside them as they lifted the stretcher into an ambulance, she climbed in after them.

"No. I'm okay,"

The policeman nodded and Brian allowed himself to be pushed back through the crowd, the sight of Angela disappearing down a funnel of people.

--

_The emergency room was really busy; it must have been a fight at a wedding reception or something, because the waiting area was full of men in suits with cut faces, and there was a bride with blood on her dress._

Angela waited in silence on a bed surrounded by a curtain. She hadn't tried to go with Jordan into the resuscitation room; she had seen enough hospital dramas to know they never let you in there anyway. She could hear her parents bickering in hushed whispers outside; something about how terrible it was that somebody couldn't even drive down their own street anymore without being in danger. Angela closed her eyes and tried to block out the words - but then heard another voice.

"Angela?"

She opened her eyes and recognised the nurse that had met her when she arrived with Jordan in the ambulance. The nurse had appeared through the side of Angela's curtained bay and Angela was thankful for it because it meant her parents were still bickering - oblivious. The nurse seemed to grasp the situation as she glanced in the direction of Patty and Graham's murmurings before speaking to Angela in conspiratorial tones.

"They've managed to stabilise him,"

The nurse paused as Angela let out a relieved sigh.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Is he awake?"

The nurse shook her head.

--

The resus room was lit with long strip lights across the ceiling, so bright that as Angela entered she was forced to momentarily close her eyes. She imagined that on opening them she might have stepped into another world, or perhaps even back in time. Maybe when she opened her eyes she'd be leaning against her locker watching Jordan laughing with his friends, not even knowing her name. Would she have done things differently? Maybe never even admitted how she felt every time she saw him?

It was incredibly quiet; or at least it was compared to the waiting area and triage. Eventually though, Angela could discern at least one noise - a steady, recurring beep.

She opened her eyes. Monitors surrounded Jordan's bed, his leg was in plaster and a dressing covered part of his chest. A stool had been placed next to the bed. At first Angela just sat there watching him breathing, watching the bedcovers move ever so slightly with each inhalation. A strand of hair lay across his left eye and the urge to move it eventually caused Angela to stand and pull the stool nearer to the bed. It made a screeching noise on the polished floor and she glanced around quickly as if moving a stool had suddenly become a crime. Slowly she reached up and lifted the strand of hair away from his eye gently before retreating back to her seat.

_I felt like an impostor, like I had no right to even be there. Worse still I kept finding myself staring at his body. I tried to focus on something else, on the notice board outside with its posters about breast awareness and diabetes. But in spite of everything that had happened – I just wanted to hold him._

Jordan's breathing suddenly because much deeper and his breaths more audible, Angela instinctively pushed the stool back a little and glanced anxiously over at the nurses station outside.

"Angela," quiet and muffled but nevertheless with a distinct urgency, "Angela?"

She stood and placed her hand on his chest, cursing herself and the hormones responsible for her still taking any opportunity to touch him. A nurse rushed in and checked the monitors.

"Mr Catalano, nice to have you back,"

"My chest hurts,"

"It will do honey," the nurse winked at Angela as she moved away to update Jordan's notes.

Angela followed her to the side of the room and spoke quietly, "is he okay?"

"He's doing fine. He's gonna be okay," the nurse wrote something down, then looked up again to see Angela staring across at the bed, "so the two of you are together?" She smiled that smile that grown ups use when they think teenage relationships are cute.

"Sort of. It's complicated,"

The nurse nodded and smiled that smile that grown ups use when they think it's cute how all teenagers see their relationships as 'complicated'.

When the nurse had gone Angela crossed the room back to Jordan's bed and sat down again on the stool. His eyes were closed and Angela half hoped he had fallen back to sleep. He was always so self assured, so confident and strong; to see him lying helpless embarrassed her – though she didn't know why it should.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't open his eyes; he seemed to be concentring on his breathing.

Angela had almost forgotten her own injuries. She felt the cut across above her eye from which the nurse had removed a small piece of glass, and she attempted to move her right arm in its sling but winced at the pain. Then she looked down at the dressing on Jordan's chest. He had been thrown almost through the windscreen and suffered broken ribs, one of which had punctured his lung – they had taken him into surgery straight away.

"I'm okay,"

"Is your arm broken?"

Angela shook her head "I don't think so,"

He smiled knowingly "you'd know if it was. I broke my arm when I was kid, it hurt like hell,"

Jordan found it strangely difficult to keep his eyes open. He had never been the sort of person that needed all that much sleep, but now it was all he could think about doing. It became hard to distinguish whether he was actually awake or already sleeping, the two seemed to blend together into one hazy limbo. He desperately wanted to stay awake; there was so much he wanted to say.

"Angela –'

Angela quickly predicted in her mind the conversation that would follow. Jordan would admit to not writing the letter, she would probably forgive him – she shook her head slightly at the thought – then he would ask if they could be a couple again and she would probably agree. But then there was Brian.

"Let's not talk about this now,"

Jordan frowned slightly, "Talk about what?"

Angela realised she hadn't actually allowed him to say anything. "I don't know,"

"Could you get me a glass of water ?"

With a baffling mixture of emotions rushing through her body Angela forced a smile "sure,"

As she left the room Angela's legs felt weak. It could be shock she supposed, but more than likely it was the confusion and the tension she felt deep down.

"Angela!"

Patty rushed toward her closely followed by Graham.

"There you are, we've been waiting around thinking you were still with the nurse,"

"I was in there," she indicated to the resus room.

Patty's face suddenly turned very serious "how's Jordan?"

"He's awake, I'm just getting him some water,"

The high-pitched strings of a cell phone rang out.

"Dad you shouldn't have that on in here,"

"Graham,"

Graham glanced down at the phone, "it's Hallie. I said I'd let her know how you were. I'll quickly take it outside,"

It worried Patty that he didn't look up at her as he spoke, just turned and disappeared around the corner.

"So I should get this water. You and dad can go home you know, I'll call you when I need picking up,"

"If you're sure,"

Angela nodded. Patty hugged her tight.

Angela watched her mom hurry away after her father; it bothered her how she couldn't let him out of her sight – but at the same time something was telling her that Patty should go after him, something about the way her father took the phone call had set off alarm bells in Angela's mind.

As she approached the resus room the nurse who had been with Jordan was just leaving carrying his notes. She saw Angela, "Good timing, we've moved Jordan down here,"

They arrived at a small side room, the nurse opened the door for Angela and she went inside.

Jordan was awake and sitting up slightly with the help of a stack of pillows. Angela noticed a jug of water and a glass on the drawers next to the bed. She smiled and placed the plastic cup on the drawers anyway before moving around the bed and sitting down in the armchair near the window. She glanced outside and wondered about her parents and Hallie Lowenthal.

"You're really far away over there"

Though it was a small room Angela's chair was still a fair distance away from the bed, "I don't think I should move it,"

"Sit here," he placed his hand on the bed.

Angela hesitated but finally she stood and moved to the bed, sitting down on the edge. She sat facing the window, facing away from him, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. But when she felt his hand on hers she turned to look at him. His face was pale and eyes were slightly red.

"I thought," he began, but had to pause to catch his breath, "I thought maybe we could try again, you know, being not just friends,"

Angela took a deep breath; she really didn't want to have this conversation now. She had wanted to scream at him, ask him why he couldn't be honest with her, why he'd felt the need to ask Brian of all people to write the letter.

_I'd known Brian Krakow for as long as I could remember. When we were six I kissed him. It didn't mean anything but now I began wondering whether maybe I had accidentally disturbed the proper flow Brian's life – like a time traveller. I had torn a hole in the fabric of time and now I was being sucked into it._

She couldn't shout at him while he was like this, but nevertheless things needed to be said.

"How can we?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not real, because it's based on a lie. And if I go along with it and pretend I don't know that it was Brian who that letter, then that's two lies and I won't do that,"

She felt his hold on her hand loosen – then he let go completely and laid his hand back down on the covers. Angela stood and walked back over to the armchair, sitting cross-legged and looking out of the window. She could feel the emotion rising until it settled in a lump in her throat, and she knew she would have to say everything "I mean it's not as if it was ever that good between us was it?"

From the window Angela could see the car park; she watched a couple – the woman heavily pregnant - make their way toward the hospital entrance.

Jordan watched her - studied her - sitting in the chair. Her hair was messier than normal and there was a tear along the hem of her jacket. Her hands lay clasped in her lap and, with her legs crossed, a small amount of pale skin was visible between the bottom of her trouser leg and the start of her sock. He thought back; the night he tried to kiss her outside Brian's house, the time he propositioned her when the rumours were flying, the boiler room, the empty house on Cloverdale, the break up, the letter.

"We're just not compatible," she continued, "we might as well accept it,"

Jordan didn't want to accept it, but he had to admit there was plenty reason for Angela to think it. He had treated her badly – the thought hit him with more force than any car crash.

"I never meant to hurt you,"

As Angela turned she found Jordan looking directly at her; there was sincerity in his face.

"I know. That's the point," she moved back toward the bed and rested her hands on the edge, running her thumb beneath the edge of the sheet; an unconscious action betraying the sensations she still felt at the sight of him. She felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought of how little material there was between her hands and his skin.

"So what do you want to do?" Jordan was watching her hands, acutely aware of how close she was.

"I don't know, stay as we are I guess. Friends,"

The sound of the door opening startled them both. The nurse entered.

"Angela. It's getting kind of late, Jordan needs to sleep,"

Angela moved away from the bed, suddenly conscious of their proximity.

"I'll call my parents,"

"There's a place you can sleep if you want to stay,"

"Thanks, but I should get home,"

The nurse smiled, "we'll look after him,"

_The worst thing is when a conversation ends before it's over. _

**Please review, I love to know what you think xx**


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of the Chases' car pulling into their driveway awoke Brian from a nap he hadn't even realised he was having. He peered out, watching as first Patty and then Angela emerged from the car and made their way inside. He let out a long sigh; partly in relief, partly at the recollection of the events prior to the crash, undecided as to whether he felt predominantly depressed or embarrassed about it. Depression seemed to be prevailing at that moment; embarrassment was something he'd come to accept on a regular basis.

"Brian!" his mother called from downstairs, "is your light on? Are you still awake?"

"Going to bed now mom!" he called back.

He leant across and switched the lamp off, but instead of going to bed he sat in the chair by the window. After some time the front door of the Chases' opened and a figure slipped out. It was Angela. She walked to end of the porch and sat on the balustrade, tucking her knees under her chin. Brian sat motionless watching her; afraid even to blink in case he missed something – a movement of her hand, her hair blowing in the breeze. Maybe she might even look up at his window, although he thought if ever she did he'd probably die.

When they were six Angela kissed him. They were watching television in his sitting room, his mom had let them eat their dinner on their laps – she never did that. Just as Brian asked her if she would prefer ice cream or cookies for dessert she kissed him. Even now, if he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could still remember how it felt. Especially as he'd never been kissed since.

At first Brian couldn't understand why there was a bell ringing in the middle of the forest. Then he realised; it wasn't the bell, it was his alarm clock.

He didn't see Angela on the bus; he guessed she wouldn't be coming into school. She was probably with Jordan.

He spent English going over the conversation they had outside his house about the letter. Part of him wished he'd just admitted writing it, he felt foolish for having tried to keep covering it up when it was so obvious she knew already. But then if he'd admitted it that would have been like admitting … everything. He looked around at the two conspicuous empty desks, and imagined Angela sitting at Jordan's bedside, holding his hand, and probably whispering things to him. She would never break up with him now; he had the advantage of like … almost dying.

--

Angela awoke from strange dreams. She dreamt that she and Rayanne were sitting in the waiting room at the dentist. Rayanne was reading aloud all of the posters on the wall and it was driving Angela mad. When her name was called Rayanne asked Angela to promise she would wait for her, but when the nurse had led her away down a corridor Angela stood and left.

She felt a pang of guilt but she wasn't sure whether it was real or just left over from the dream. It was too confusing. Looking across at the clock Angela realised she had slept until well into the afternoon. Her arm ached and there was some blood on the pillow where the cut on her forehead must a bled a little overnight. There was a knock at her door and Patty came in carrying a tray.

"Are you awake?"

"Uh huh,"

"I thought you might be hungry,"

Angela managed to sit up and Patty set the tray down on her lap before sitting down on the edge of the bed. She pushed Angela's hair back from her face and examined the cut on her forehead. Angela hissed as her mom touched the sensitive skin.

"Sorry,"

Angela surveyed the tray of food; a muffin, some fruit, a glass of orange, some toast. Nothing really appealed to her.

"Rickie rang, he's going to come by after school today. He asked if you'd mind if he brought Rayanne so I told him it would be fine,"

Angela picked at the muffin, a subtle hint to Patty that she had probably done wrong.

"You know," Patty continued, "I talked to Jordan last night,"

"So," she didn't mean for it to sound as bad as it did, but she wanted to make it as clear as possible that she really didn't want to have to hear what her mom was about to say.

"I have to say, and I realise I don't know everything of what's gone on between the two of you, he really seems very sorry if he's hurt you,"

"Did he tell you about the letter?"

"He told me there were things he wished he could say to you,"

"How can things ever change if he can't even talk to me?"

"Well," she placed an arm around her daughter's shoulders, "you don't always make it easy Angela,"

_When you've been really angry about something and then someone points out your own part in it, you feel really stupid._

Patty kissed her on the top of the head before leaving the room.

--

Brian had never really given much attention to the view from the bus on the way home from school; he would usually just stare at Angela's hair, or at her profile when she looked out. But on this occasion Angela wasn't on the bus home.

As he walked from the bus stop to his house he considered visiting her. Maybe he could justify it by saying he was there to tell her about the biology work they had to do, or maybe that would just be foolish. He found himself engaged in a one-man debate at the bottom of his own driveway.

"Brian?"

He knew the voice but decided he could in all probability have not heard it, so he started toward the house.

"Brian wait,"

He paused, seriously disliking the fact his debate had been in vain and the decision had been taken out of his hands. Angela crossed the street.

"Hey,"

Angela had clearly left the house in a hurry; she had her jacket wrapped around her shoulders, not having taken the time to deal with her injured arm in its sling.

"You were lucky you know, over forty thousand people are killed every year in car accidents in the US. I read that somewhere,"

"Thanks for the statistic," Angela glanced around clearly searching for the words, "Brian I wanted to apologise, I never meant for you to get caught up in this stuff between me and Jordan Catalano,"

"It wasn't exactly your fault, I mean I did it of my own free will,"

"I know but it wasn't fair because-,"

Both knew what had to be said but neither really wanted to have to say it. Unusually it was Brian who spoke first.

"I guess it's what people do, when they care about someone. They try to make them happy, even if that means-,"

There was an awkward pause.

"Brian,"

Angela took a step toward him and her hand extended out as if to touch his arm. Brian couldn't take the tension; he moved his arm out of harms way and quickly changed the tone of their meeting "so Ms. Chavatal said we can hand in our biology projects at the end of the month. I can probably get most of it done by myself, maybe you could just look over the results, I don't know, whenever,"

Angela retreated, she nodded slowly, knowing she had lost the chance to actually speak to Brian – Brian's brain had stepped in instead.

"I've got a lot of homework to do. I mean I can't stand here talking, so I'd better-," he indicated to his house and began edging away from Angela.

"Sure," she smiled.

Once inside Brian leant back against the door and tried to work out why he was so totally incapable of behaving like a normal person around Angela Chase. The night before he had watched her, imagining how it would be if she were ever to show any sort of feelings for him. Yet when there was the slightest chance he pushed her away. He sighed, why was he like this?

--

Shortly after five there was a knock at Angela's door and Rickie entered, closely followed by Rayanne. Rickie bounded toward her and hugged her, being careful to avoid her arm.

"You're poor arm, does it hurt?"

Angela smiled, "it's not too bad,"

"What about Jordan?" Rickie asked cautiously.

"He's stable,"

"God we were so worried about you,"

Rayanne was hanging back near the door "so how long are you gonna be outta school?"

"I don't know, another day or so,"

Rayanne scoffed, "are you kidding me, a day or so? You've got a license to stay off school right there, use it. Unless you can't stand being away from me and Rickie, I mean obviously," she let out an exaggerated laugh but her smile slipped when she realised no one else was sharing the joke. "I need the bathroom," she scuttled out.

Rickie shifted awkwardly, "she won't admit it but she was really worried about you,"

_The idea that Rayanne could be worried about someone other than herself was like a totally alien concept._

"So did you talk to Jordan, about the letter?"

She frowned, "sort of,"

"What did he say?"

Angela shrugged, "not much, I guess I kinda monopolised the conversation,"

Rickie toyed with the items on the dressing table, "so did you meet his dad?"

"No," replied Angela thoughtfully, the weirdness of it only just becoming apparent, "no, nobody else came. Why did you ask?"

Rickie focussed on the lipstick he was playing with, winding it up and down.

"Is that wierd?" she continued, "that's wierd right? Rickie? What kind of parent wouldn't be there?" Rickie offered no reply but Angela could tell from the look on his face that he was withholding something. She decided to tease out an explanation "I mean it's just not normal is it?" she watched for any hint of Rickie's defences crumbling "a parent not visiting their injured child?"

"Okay," Rickie had cracked; he finally put down the lipstick. "So at Christmas when Jordan took me to the-, you know. He kinda told me something about his dad, something private,"

Angela moved closer to him, determined not to let him clam up "like what?"

"It's not like I asked or anything, I guess it was just a coincidence, I mean there were similarities," he was babbling.

"Rickie,"

He calmed himself, "okay so it's kind of like his dad used to be violent or something,"

Angela's jaw dropped, "his father, what violent to Jordan?"

Rickie nodded, "but not anymore, not that that changes anything,"

"Oh my God, how could I not know this?"

"I guess it's not something he would want to talk about usually,"

It dawned on Angela the 'similarities' Rickie had hinted at, she reached out and touched his arm.

"So you two, what are you gonna do?"

"I told him I just wanted to be friends,"

Rickie lowered his voice "is that really what you want?"

Angela went to answer but …

"You and Jordan Catalano just friends, in what universe?" Rayanne burst back into the room, "so is your arm broken?"

"No." Angela's reply was short, kind of stunned by Rayanne's last comment given her past behaviour.

"I broke my arm when I was in preschool, screamed so loud some daft kid wet himself,"

Rayanne laughed but for Angela the harmless anecdote was too close to Jordan's story, only serving to remind her of … what happened. It was something else Jordan and Rayanne like 'had' that she didn't.

"Well it's not broken,"

"Lucky," Rayanne turned to the mirror above the dressing table and began fixing her hair; entirely unaware of the deeper meaning Angela had taken from their exchange. "So I guess you and Jordan are back together now,"

"Rayanne," Rickie cautioned.

Rayanne turned from the mirror and raised her hands in ignorance "what? You're telling me you two go through a life threatening event and you're just gonna be the same as before? Don't you watch movies?"

"It doesn't work like that,"

Rayanne scoffed, "right,"

Rickie jumped in, "is anyone else hungry? I'm hungry, does anyone else want food?"

_Rayanne sees things in black and white. Sometimes I think my life would be a lot easier if I could just do the same._

--

Angela waited at the hospital desk with the basket of fruit Patty had given her. She tried to explain to her mom that taking fruit to Jordan was just plain embarrassing but Patty insisted. As she waited at the desk, while the woman in front argued with the receptionist over a parking space, Angela's attention was drawn by an elderly man wheeling an elegant old lady through the waiting area in a wheel chair.

A nurse directed her to the same room where she had left Jordan the night before. The nurse entered but Angela paused for a moment at the door, looking through the small window at Jordan lying seemingly asleep. He was still pale; his hands lay limply on top of the bed sheets and his hair was splayed out on the pillow. The nurse appeared to wake him gently whilst checking the monitor next to his bed. She could read the words 'Angela's here' on the nurse's lips and Jordan's gaze turned to the door. The nurse helped him sit up and he spoke something to her, to which she nodded nurse before leaving. Angela stepped inside as the nurse left and closed the door behind her.

"Hey," his voice was soft.

Angela indicated to the basket, "my mom made me bring you this, if you don't want it I-,"

"Fruit?"

Angela shrugged "I can just take it home,"

Jordan closed his eyes briefly "is there a peach in there?"

Angela couldn't help the slight smile that spread across her face, "I think so,"

The door opened and the nurse reappeared with a plastic chair, which she placed next to the bed, "there you go," she noticed the fruit, "oh, do you want me to bring you a plate?"

Angela smiled and nodded at her.

When she turned back to Jordan he smiled knowingly; he had solved the problem of the seating arrangement from the night before. With Angela so close Jordan was able to savour her scent. He hoped it would linger into the evening and that he fall asleep with it.

"We got interrupted last night," Jordan began.

"Yeah we did,"

"Angela I-,"

The door opened, the nurse gave the plate and a fruit knife to Angela.

"Thanks," she looked at Jordan, "so you want this peach?"

Jordan nodded, so Angela set about cutting it up, stealing the occasional glance at him.

_It's so strange how a person can seem like a certain way, and then in a split second something can make you see them in a totally different light. Like someone who once seemed so strong can suddenly seem vulnerable._

"Have you had many visitors?"

Jordan frowned, "just you,"

"What about your parents, I thought they would have been to see you?"

He sighed, "my dad's out of town a lot, I think its Texas this time so it's not exactly an easy drive back,"

"But you could have died,"

Jordan bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, "just leave it okay,"

_The fact he didn't even raise his voice, like he was resigned to it, just made it worse._

"Here," she held the plate out for him and watched him as he ate, wiping stray juice from his chin with the back of his palm and licking his fingers. No matter how hard Angela tried to convince herself otherwise, she had to admit – Jordan Catalano had a hold over her that was like impossible to ignore.

"Do you want a piece?"

His voice disrupted her contemplation and she blushed at where her own thoughts had taken her. Then his words sank in, as did the sight of him holding out a piece of the peach toward her. She had a decision to make, take the peach from him by hand, or …

_Everything seemed to slow down. It was one of those moments that are so intense you can hear your own heart beat._

She leant in and took a bite from the end of the slice, unable to break the eye contact with Jordan who then finished the rest, wiping a hand across his mouth. He smiled, "juicy,"

Angela couldn't help but laugh; the tension was just too much. She nodded, "yeah,"

Jordan laughed but stopped when it began to hurt him. He eventually brought his breathing under control but his smile did not return, he turned to Angela with a sudden sense of seriousness "I thought about what you said, about being just friends,"

Angela waited for him to continue, taking a deep breath as if to prepare herself.

"You're probably right,"

That was it? For a moment Angela thought she might just break down and cry right in front of him. Even though she had pushed him away the night before, part of her was still wishing that he would come out with something uncharacteristically profound and win her back. At least try and fight for her. At least act as though he cared. Angela tried to swallow her disappointment, unwilling to let on to Jordan how she felt.

Angela nodded slowly, "yeah,"

Jordan thought for a moment that he heard Angela's breath hitch as though she was crying but he couldn't bring himself to look at her to confirm it. If he looked at her he'd take back what he just said and he knew he couldn't do that. He wasn't prepared to hurt her again. He had to hold it together.

"I mean we get on, you know, we get on well,"

Angela nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak with a steady voice.

"So we'll just-,"

"Be friends," Angel completed the sentence. She smiled at him.

_I hate him. No, I hate myself … and him._

Jordan picked up the last piece of the peach, "one piece left," he smiled and held it toward her, expecting her to take it as before.

"I don't believe you!" Angela stood up.

He withdrew his hand, "what?"

"You can't say one thing and then-,"

"What? What did I do?"

Angela rubbed her forehead.

"Just 'cos I offered you some fruit?"

"No," Angela paced around the bed to the window.

"What do you want Angela? I mean you say you want to be friends but it doesn't work does it?"

She turned back to him; the same uncontrollable rush of emotions overtook her. He was right; she didn't know what she wanted. Or was she just too afraid to admit it?

Jordan watched her deliberating with herself at the window. He was confused; confused by himself and confused by her. He knew very well it wasn't just the fruit, it was the look in her eyes as she had taken it into her mouth, a look he knew equally well he had reciprocated. This was something new, something more than the naive fantastizing which he had sometimes suspected of Angela. The way she looked at him now, it was as though she actually wanted him.

"I should probably go," she made toward the door.

"Ironic,"

She stopped, "what?"

"You're normally the one who wants to talk, now you don't want to,"

"I have to go,"

"You're running away,"

She shook her head, "I'm not, it's just I have all this work-, biology work to do. I have to go,"

_I'm a coward; even now I can't even bring myself to tell Jordan Catalano the whole truth, because it's just too complicated and ridiculous to even try. I want Jordan Catalano, like in every way possible, but for some reason it's just not enough._

**Thank you so much for the reviews, I hope you enjoyed this chapter xx**


	3. Chapter 3

"So you're just gonna be friends?"

Rickie and Angela were lying on her bed flicking through a magazine but neither was really paying attention to its content.

"Yeah. Well, not entirely, he kinda went back on it. He got sort of angry, I haven't seen him like that before,"

"Then you left,"

Angela groaned, and collapsed face down into the mattress and remained there, her groans muffled, before she quickly restored herself to her previous position, propped up on her elbow, "what am I afraid of?"

"Could it be about Rayanne, are you still angry with him?"

"I don't know, partly I guess," she turned another page of the magazine "partly it has to with Brian,"

"Brian? You mean about the letter?"

"Not exactly. I can't explain it, it's like this little niggling thought in my head," she took a moment to think, "there are just certain aspects of Brian that-, I mean obviously on balance he drives me insane but just some aspects that, I don't know, Jordan's kind of lacking,"

"Like what?"

"Like being able to show emotion, like real emotion. When I got that letter," she shakes her head wistfully at the memory, "I couldn't believe it," a smile spreads across her face as she recalls the words that she had memorised. Gradually her smile fades "but then I _really_ couldn't believe it. Part of me knew there was just no way he would ever write me something like that, even if he could. But Brian, he wrote that. Am I making any sense?"

"Totally. I guess it's kinda like me and Delia; we'd be perfect together except that she's … her and I'm … well I'm me. And there's no way it could ever be more than it is. I guess what I'm trying to say is at least you have the choice,"

Angela leant closer to Rickie and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I guess he's just easier to deal with than Jordan sometimes,"

"So what you really need is some kind of mind mesh machine. Like Brian's romantic verses inside Jordan's-, well Jordan,"

Angela laughed.

Rickie sat up suddenly, struck by an idea "no I'll tell you what you need – how about we go see a film tonight?"

She considered it before announcing with conviction, "yeah, why not,"

"Great,"

With that settled, they turned back to the magazine. Or at least Rickie did. Angela had clearly moved on to thinking about another issue, her frown indicative of reflection. At last she verbalised it.

"I guess we should invite Rayanne,"

Rickie chose his words carefully, he had long been hoping for reconciliation but was afraid to push it "it's up to you,"

"Do you want to invite her?"

"I don't mind either way,"

"Maybe I should invite Sharon too,"

"Why not, the more the merrier. Why don't you invite Brian?"

Angela let out a stunned laugh, "Rickie!" she shook her head, "I'm not inviting Brian,"

"No, maybe you should. I mean maybe it would be good for you to, you know, sort things out - once and for all," Rickie was clearly convinced by his own plan.

Angela smiled at him, still not quite believing he had made the suggestion "Oh my God," she took a deep breath, "all right. All right I'll invite him,"

"I mean it's not like it'll just be the two of you; me, Rayanne and Sharon will be there,"

Angela rolled her eyes.

--

The group gathered at Angela's house. Patty insisted on making them all food, in spite of Angela's insistence that they would probably eat something at the cinema. She got the impression that her mom was trying to distract herself from something bothering her. She could guess at what it might be, but not with any certainty, and cursed herself for being so caught up with Jordan Catalano that she had lost track of what was going on in her own home.

There was one person missing from the group.

Angela rang the doorbell at Brian's house. His mom opened the door; a tall elegant woman dressed smartly in a suit and with her hair pulled back.

"Angela!" she grinned, "how's school?"

_I've always had a hard time believing that Jennifer Krakow was actually Brian's mom. I've idolised her as far back as I can remember. She let me try on her shoes once, these towering stilettos, and let me wear them around the kitchen. Seeing her alongside Brian - it's like a genetic impossibility._

"Do you want me to get Brian?"

From behind her Brian's voice could be heard, "I'm here mom,"

She gave Angela a last smile, "nice to see you again Angela,"

"Hey," Brian took her place in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Hey," she tried to sound casual, "so a bunch of us are going to see a movie tonight if you wanted to come along?"

"Which people?"

"Rickie, Rayanne, Sharon,"

Angela could almost see the inner workings of Brian's brain weighing up the pros and cons of the situation.

"Okay then,"

"Great, so the movie's at eight thirty, so-,"

"I'll be right over," he nodded.

Angela nodded. She spun around on her heels and made her way back across to her own house.

Brian remained in the doorway, struck dumb by this turn of events. Angela Chase actually came over and asked him to go to the cinema with her. Well not with her, but the others could just be going along so that it wasn't, like, too obvious. Because people do that sometimes … or so he'd heard.

"Brian," his mother's voice drew him out of his speculation, "are you going to close the door?"

As the Chase's front door closed, and Angela disappeared behind it, Brian flung the door shut, earning him a puzzled glance from Jennifer.

At the dining table Patty played the capable hostess to perfection but Angela knew that beneath the calm surface was a raging torrent. She had observed her mother, over the years, developing the techniques for hiding her true emotions; able to identify them by the similarities they bore to Angela's own means. She knew it was something to do with her father. Angela got a queasy feeling every time she thought about it, thought about the suspicions she had once had about him.

There was a strange tension at the table, despite Patty's best efforts. Between bites of food Angela was sure she caught Rayanne staring at her, as if she was attempting to transmit some sort of message via telepathy.

"This is really delicious," Sharon chirped up to try and lighten the mood, but her efforts only served to make the silence than followed even more obvious, and even more awkward.

The phone rang and all five of them started slightly as the shrill sound cut through the silence.

"I'll get it,"

"I'll get it,"

Both Angela and Patty jumped up at the same time.

"I got it mom,"

Angela went through into the kitchen and reappeared a few moments later.

"Sharon, it's Kyle,"

Sharon looked slightly embarrassed as she passed Angela into the kitchen.

Rayanne watched her disappear "so I guess it's still on with her and Vinnovich?"

"Oh that's Sharon's boyfriend?" Patty chirped up at the prospect of a conversation.

"I think they're just kind of friends now,"

Rayanne scoffed, "yeah, if you say so,"

"Rayanne is it possible for you to stay out of other people's business for one second?" Angela surprised herself at how angry she sounded.

Rayanne, suitably scorned, confined her gaze to her plate.

"Angela," Patty struck a glance at her daughter.

"It's all right," Rayanne raised her eyebrows, "it's not like I don't know why she's mad at me,"

Angela combed her fingers through her hair, regretting having created this situation.

"Why don't I get us some desert?" Patty stood and began gathering plates to her.

"I'll help," Rickie also stood and started collecting the plates.

"I don't know why she can't just talk to me about it?" Rayanne continued, "I mean that's what friends are supposed to do, right?"

Patty and Rickie froze, each holding a selection of plates and cutlery, unsure as to whether now would be the best time to leave or not.

"Right?" Rayanne looks up at Rickie for support but received none, Rickie simply looked down at the salad bowl in his hands.

"I don't want to talk about it,"

"I mean you've forgiven Jordan. He didn't even write the stupid letter. I'm trying to apologise, like in person, and you won't even listen to me. So what, Jordan Catalano means more to you?"

Angela frowned and shook her head, "no, that's not it,"

"Yeah," she stands.

Patty realises she is about to leave, "Rayanne,"

"Thanks for the food,"

Sharon re-entered the room just as the front door slammed closed.

"I might have to give the cinema a miss, Kyle's got this history work to do and-, where's Rayanne?"

"She left," Angela took a sip of water.

Sharon suddenly felt incredibly guilty that she was about to abandon them because Kyle had the house to himself.

"So you're going to see Kyle?" Angela continued.

"I kinda promised I'd help him, sorry,"

Angela tried to smile at her reassuringly, "it's okay you should go. We probably won't go now anyway,"

"I'll see you in school,"

The three of them collected the remaining plates in silence. Angela noticed her mother checking the clock; Graham was late again. She thought back to the time she had seen her father talking with the young woman in the street, and allowed herself to worry a little that he might be out there somewhere now. When they had washed the dishes Rickie decided to go home, but secretly planned to call Rayanne as he knew Amber was away.

As Angela closed the door after Rickie, Patty emerged from the kitchen.

"Well your father is obviously not coming home any time soon. I think I'm going to get an early night,"

Angela wanted to console her mother, "it must be a lot of work getting the restaurant ready,"

"Evidently,"

With that, Patty turned and disappeared up the stairs. Just as Angela stepped away from the door, there was a knock. Brian was standing outside.

"Sorry I'm late, my mom insisted on me having a shower. I hope you don't mind, I brought my own popcorn, cinema snacks make me kinda-, nevermind,"

"Well the others all left so-,"

Brian looked surprised and tried to convince himself this was in no way Angela's plan all along, "really?"

He hovered in the doorway as Angela leant against the door and shut her eyes. Brian took a moment to look at her face, the way the light played on her cheek, and how pale her skin was on her neck.

"Do you still want to go?" his voice came out horse and weird sounding, like when he first woke up in the morning.

"No," she opened her eyes and straightened up, "can we just walk somewhere?"

"Sure,"

They walked together slowly, in silence, along the street, stopping after a short distance to sit down on the grass beneath a streetlight. Brian offered her the popcorn and Angela took a small handful.

"So the others couldn't make it?"

Angela didn't reply.

"How's Jordan?" realising it was slightly weird for him to be asking Brian tried to quickly justify it, "I mean, because I need to know, for tutoring, when he's going to be back in school. We're kind of behind in Phonics Manual and-,"

"Phonics Manual?"

"I just don't want to waste my time preparing work if he's not going to be there,"

"Oh well I'll remind him to apologise to you, I'm sure he'd be devastated if he knew he'd wasted your time,"

"I didn't mean it like that,"

Angela stared at him in semi-shock at the apparent insanity of his priorities "he could have died Brian,"

"I know," Brian replied defensively.

Angela rolled her eyes and took another handful of popcorn, aggressively scooping it out of the bag as if to punish Brian for his comment via his savoury snack.

_It's so weird; I just can't like stay mad at Brian._

"So," Angela took a more sympathetic tone, "you're still gonna be tutoring him?"

"Yeah I guess,"

"They said he might be in the hospital for a while,"

"I guess you're just happy he didn't die or anything?"

Brian kept his gaze firmly out into the street, not wanting to make the moment any more intimate than it needed to be.

Angela nodded, more as though to answer a longstanding question in her own mind than the question posed by Brian.

"I'm happy you didn't," Brian spoke quickly, as though it was just something that needed to be said.

"Thanks,"

"I mean they could have done something about your short temper but-,"

Angela let out a laugh and shoved with her shoulder, hard enough for him to nearly topple sideways. He just managed to save the popcorn from spilling out of the bag all over the grass, laughing as he recovered his balance.

"I guess you can't have everything," Brian completed his sentence. He noticed Angela was looking at him, for the first time since they had sat down. It was as if she was looking right into his mind, Brian felt himself blush at the idea of being so … naked.

"Did he ever, like, say anything to you about me?"

"Erm," Brian pretended to think back, even though in reality he had locked away every mention Jordan had made of Angela in his memory, "sometimes,"

"What did he say?"

"I don't know, just that he felt bad about-," Brian couldn't actually bring himself to mention the Rayanne incident, "I mean he was really upset about what he did,"

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can remember," Brian finally buckled under the intensity of the eye contact, and broke it. He looked down at his hands and toyed with a piece of popcorn, "he cared, okay, that's all you need to know. If that's what you wanna hear,"

"What I wanna hear? I want the truth Brian,"

"It is the truth," he broke the piece of popcorn in two and crumbled each half, between his thumbs and forefingers, into dust. He glanced up at her to show that he was sincere.

"Why did you write the letter?"

Brian looked out into the street, "because I wanted to,"

"Look at me,"

He did.

"Did you mean it?"

"Yeah," he replied in almost a whisper.

Angela took a deep breath, "why now? I mean, were you jealous of Jordan?"

Brian let out a laugh, "oh, yeah, 'cos I woke up one morning and decided to be in love with you just to inconvenience you." During the silence that followed, Brian slowly realised what he had just said, "it's not something I have control over,"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Oh right, while you were chasing Jordan Catalano? I have some dignity. I mean there was just no way," he looked up at her "right?"

_It was as if everything I knew about Brian Krakow, from when we were kids, was just stripped away and all that was left was this … boy. It was too much._

Angela slowly climbed to her feet and began the walk back to her house.

Brian was frozen to the spot for a moment, half in embarrassment, half in shock that he had more or less just confessed to having feelings for Angela. It had actually happened.

Angela closed the front door and leant against it. Being back in her house, back in the familiar, made everything that had happened, and her feelings, seem totally unbelievable. She had never felt so confused, and confused in ways she couldn't even have anticipated. She noticed a light on in the kitchen and followed it. Her father was sitting at the table eating reheated leftovers. His shoulders were hunched and he seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Dad?"

He looked up and, like Patty, almost magically summoned a bright smile from nowhere, "hey, how's the arm?"

"Better," she flexed it at the elbow to demonstrate.

"You hungry?"

"No we ate,"

She sat down.

"Your mom in bed?"

"So were you busy at the restaurant?"

Graham nodded, replying in between mouthfuls of spaghetti, "the decorators are in, it's going to be mulberry burst with a dash of mellow mocha, "he raised an eyebrow at Angela, "Hallie's choice of course. I would have gone with something a little less overpowering, but she says it has to make a statement. I thought the food was the part that was meant to make the statement not the walls,"

"Dad,"

"Mmm?" he looked up at her, chewing.

"Doesn't matter. I think I'm going to go to bed,"

Upstairs she could see light coming from beneath the door to her parents' room. She pushed open the door gently, "mom?"

Patty was sitting up in bed with a photograph album open on her lap. She wiped away a tear as Angela became visible in the doorway. She observed her mother trying desperately to collect her emotions; but her daughter's appearance had been too swift for her emotional concealment to take effect. Angela climbed on to the bed and climbed under the covers next to her mother. Patty turned the page to some photographs of Angela as a child.

"So pretty," Patty ran her finger over one of the pictures.

"I have a weird look on my face,"

Patty started laughing, "your father was doing his monster impression behind the camera, it always had you stumped"

Patty turned the next page and smiled at another of the pictures.

"Mom,"

"Mmm?"

"Did you love Tony Poul?"

Patty senses what this is about, she thinks for a moment before replying, "at the time,"

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you'd known dad then? I mean would you have felt the same?"

"I don't know I was a different person. So were they,"

Angela traces the edge of the leather book, "but say you had to decide between what dad has and what Tony Poul had,"

"People change," Patty's eyes glaze over as she starts to really consider the question for herself, "you can make a decision you think is right because you think you know a person but eventually you realise that you never really know anyone. Everyone has hidden depths that you couldn't even imagine," she brought herself back to the present and smiled at Angela as she pushed a strand of hair out of her daughter's face, "people can surprise you, if you give them a chance,"

Angela rested her head against her mother's shoulder "it's like I had all these expectations of how it would be,"

"That's not a crime,"

"Isn't it? Why can't I just accept him as he is?"

Patty smiled down at her daughter knowingly, "just wait,"

--

Brian lay on his bed deep in thought. Was this his chance? Should he go over there and, like, capitalise on it? Okay so she hadn't exactly swooned into his arms but she hadn't slapped him, or told him something along the lines of "not if you were the last man on earth Brian Krakow". But the look on her face when he had mentioned Jordan, and the accident, there was no mistaking it.

He rolled off the bed and opened the middle drawer of his desk, taking out the Phonics Manual that had lain in there since his last tutoring session with Jordan. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt; he remembered how good Jordan had been to him, when the majority of his sort would usually just have ignored him. Jordan asked him to write the letter to Angela without knowing how Brian felt himself, he had asked him in good faith, and Brian had used it as an opportunity to vent his own anguish. Maybe Rickie was right maybe he had wronged Jordan.

Brian opened the book and flicked through the pages. A piece of paper fluttered out from between a couple of the pages at the back. Picking it up Brian realised what it was. He thought about Angela, all the years he'd spent wishing she saw him differently, wishing he was different. He folded the piece of paper and placed it back between the pages.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been quite a while since the last update. I had exams but I also spent ages trying to decide where to take this next, this seemed like the logical next step so I hope you like it. This chapter and the next were originally going to be one but it would have been too long, my random ramblings saw to that, so here's two instead xxx**

Angela didn't visit Jordan at the weekend. When she arrived home on Monday Patty knocked on her bedroom door and asked if she wanted a lift to the hospital – "no," came the reply. On Tuesday Patty knocked again but found Angela too busy catching up on some English homework. The following Tuesday she arrived home from work to find her daughter reading at the kitchen table. Lifting the bag of groceries she had collected on the way home from work on to the worktop, Patty debated whether it was worth her trying again.

"I've got twenty minutes until I have to meet Camille, do you want a lift to the hospital?" Patty attempted to sound nonchalant as she began to unpack the groceries, "it's been nearly two weeks,"

"Twelve days," came the swift reply.

Since their discussion the night of the aborted cinema trip Patty had watched as her daughter threw herself into school work, preparation for the Our Town play, and even housework. Anything, seemingly, to keep her mind off Jordan, "so do you want me to take you or not?"

Angela turned the page of the magazine with the pretence of reading it, "I'm kinda tired,"

Patty quickly weighed up whether or not to push a little further, but knowing Angela her efforts would most likely have the opposite affect than that desired.

--

The house was quiet; Angela guessed everyone was asleep though she hadn't actually looked to see what time it was. She had been lying on her bed since Patty left to meet Camille and had heard the front door open on her return. Shortly after she heard her father arrive home from the restaurant, bringing with him Danielle who had been at a friend's house.

_It's kind of like a jigsaw of a beautiful landscape or something. But there's a piece missing. And without it the whole picture just looks wrong._

Angela focuses on a small nick in the paintwork on her ceiling from when she and Sharon had been pretending to clean the room as kids, and Angela had accidentally hit the ceiling with the handle of the broom.

_But then I start to think of the people who search their whole lives for perfection in a person, and never find it. How they spend their lives alone.  
_

Angela reaches over to her bedside table and takes the letter out of the top drawer. She must have read it hundreds of times, even after she found out it was Brian who had actually written it. In truth in had become insignificant who had written the letter, it wasn't Jordan, that's all that mattered. The letter had taken on almost a life of its own, it was the "what could have been," the "if only," the ideal, the perfect.

Suddenly Angela became aware of how hungry she was, she hadn't eaten since lunch and even then it had only been an apple and half a sandwich.

The kitchen was dark and Angela stubbed her toe on the doorframe before she had a chance to turn on the light.

_Isn't it strange how different rooms seem at night? Like they take on this whole different persona, and anything becomes possible._

The knock at the door broke the silence with such suddenness that Angela jumped and nearly dropped the bread she was carrying. She glanced up at the clock, 12.30. A shiver of fear ran down her spine and she quickly ran through the options of turning off the kitchen light – it was too late they already knew someone was up. Running upstairs – what if they broke down the door? The knock came again and she crept on tiptoes toward the back door. As she peeled back the blind covering the window she revealed a familiar face, yet still the last she would have expected to see. She opened the door.

"Hey,"

"What are you doing here?" Angela stepped aside as she spoke and pulled Jordan by the arm indoors, wanting to get him out of the cold night air. He looked quite pale, but much better than the last time she saw him. "Why did you leave the hospital?" she guided him toward the table. He was limping a little due to the injury to his leg and Angela intended to have him sit down to rest it. Instead, her hand made its way from his arm to come to rest against his chest, as if by it's own accord. "What are you doing here?" she repeated absentmindedly, almost breathless, as his scent and the feel of the sweater he wore beneath her fingers gradually caused her senses to abandon her. Before she knew it she had closed the space between them and placed a kiss on his lips. She felt an arm encircle her waist and another snake around her shoulder, the hand resting against the centre of her back holding her with some force against his warm body as Jordan responded to her kisses. Angela's hands moved up into Jordan's hair and she held herself against him, savouring the feel of his arms surrounding her, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be as close to him as possible and for him to take absolute control.

The kiss had taken Jordan by surprise. In fact, he was surprised that she had let him in to the house at all. He was sure he could feel a pain in his chest, but was uncertain as to whether it was due to his injuries or because his heart was beating so fast. He could feel Angela pushing against him; even one of her feet was resting on his with her knee brushing against his leg in a rhythm that was almost too much, coupled with the fact he could feel through her nightshirt that she wasn't wearing a bra. The idea that her panties might be similarly absent flashed an image through his mind in a nanosecond that caused him to groan. He felt Angela's hand leave his hair and travel down his side, taking hold of the bottom of his sweater. Certain that if her hand were to touch his skin he would totally loose control, much as it pained him, Jordan forced himself to pull away. "Wait,"

"Oh my God," Angela turned away completely and took a few steps toward the sink, pushing her hair back with both hands, "what was I thinking, you're hurt. I shouldn't have-,"

"No. Angela that's not why I-,"

Angela rested both palms on the work surface either side of the sink facing out of the window. Jordan moved slowly toward her, settling just behind "why didn't you come see me?"

Angela didn't dare turn to look him in the eye, "I don't know, I guess because I was afraid,"

"Of what?"

Angela could feel his breath against her neck. Ever since the night of the crash, when she had walked into the resus room and seen him lying there, all she could think of was how much she wanted to be near him. She turned, resting back against the worktop. Jordan took a step closer; she could feel the heat from him.

"How did you get here? I mean, you should be in the hospital,"

Jordan shook his head, "my dad brought me home. They say I gotta take it easy but-,"

"Take it easy? Like rest? Like put your feet up? Like probably not creep around in the middle of the night in nothing but your-," Angela averted her gaze from the inappropriate direction that she suddenly, to her embarrassment, found it focussed.

Jordan smirked at the pink blush that covered her cheeks.

"So your dad's home?" she quickly changed the subject.

"Yeah,"

Jordan leant even closer, if that was even possible considering how close he was already standing "are your parents upstairs?"

Angela let out a stifled laugh, "when they told you to take it easy I certainly don't think they had that in mind,"

Jordan chewed on his bottom lip and raised a hand to stroke a fingertip down Angela's bare forearm. She couldn't help but let her eyes close at his touch.

"Did you have that in mind? It seemed like you did," he moved in and placed a kiss on her neck, swiftly followed by another. Angela didn't open her eyes, afraid of the affect one look at that face would have on her already crumbling resolve. She felt Jordan's right hand trace her body down to the bottom of her nightshirt. Under normal circumstances she would have quickly reached for the offending hand and forced it back to a less provocative position, but on this occasion she found herself inexplicably unable to move, let alone protest, the feel of Jordan's lips against her neck was enough to make her head swim. She felt the right hand slowly begin retracing its journey from her waist to her knee in reverse, taking the material of the nightdress up with it. His hand felt warm against her leg, and soft. It settled, with his thumb massaging her hip in slow circles matching the rhythm of his kisses. The reality of the moment began to sink in and Angela tensed.

Jordan felt the change and broke away for a moment from his assault on her neck long enough to whisper, "it's okay, I'm taking it easy, remember,"

"That's what you call it?" Angela replied, almost inaudible.

Jordan pulled away a little and stared into Angela's eyes, trying to read her – though he never could tell what she was thinking. He drew his hand away and the fabric of Angela's nightshirt fell back down. She brushed the front as if to ensure it was back in place. Jordan took hold of her hand. His face was one of intense concentration as if monitoring every slight change in Angela's expression for signs of uncertainty or a signal that it was time to stop. His brows were knitted in a deep frown and he seemed to be mouthing words as if to run them through his mind before he said them.

When she last visited the hospital Jordan thought he had noticed a change in Angela, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been right. He could sense her confusion – it reflected his own – and though he knew the danger of giving in to his emotions and the damage his feelings for Angela had caused when their break had led him to make such a terrible mistake. Since the accident all he could think of was how much he wanted to show Angela what she meant to him. Without breaking eye contact he placed Angela's hand, palm down, to his chest and held it there. He paused for a moment, monitoring the slightly puzzled look on her face. Then he reached down and pulled off his sweater and the vest beneath in one smooth movement. He waited. Finally he felt Angela's hand rest once again against his now bare chest. He reached down and took hold of Angela's other hand, mindful of the fact it was still bandaged from the accident, and positioned it against the hard muscles of his stomach. Her face seemed to change from one of bemusement to a look reminiscent of that he had seen at the hospital with the peach.

Angela bit her lip. She had never been so close to another person, let a lone a guy, let alone Jordan. She had dreamt so often of being like this with him and half expected, any second, to wake up in her own bed to the sound of her alarm clock. She moved the lower hand up to meet the other, slowly, feeling the muscles tense as her fingers passed over them. Jordan flinched causing Angela to start and pull away.

"It tickles," Jordan laughed.

Angela allowed the smile to break out that she had been repressing. She gently traced the outline of the dressing on his chest, a reminder of how close she came to losing him for good. She found herself wondering if the skin on his shoulder was as soft as it looked. If she wrapped a hand around his bicep would it be as firm as it looked? Her hands began exploring before her mind had a chance to play out the consequences, the exploration ending with her hands in his hair and her lips on his.

The sound of a door opening and footsteps on the landing caused Angela to pull away. She quickly picked up Jordan's clothes, "you have to go, how did you even get here?"

"I walked,"

Angela stopped, "you walked?"

"Yeah," replied Jordan with a shrug.

"Why would you do that?"

_Because you couldn't bare the thought of being within a half a mile of me and not see me, not kiss me, not feel my skin._

"I needed the exercise,"

Angela could almost have laughed at the predictability of it.

Jordan moved toward the back door.

"Wait," Angela took an old coat belonging to her father from the hooks near the door and held it out to him, "here, don't catch pneumonia on top of everything,"

"Thanks," Jordan put on the coat, "you sure your dad won't miss it?"

"He bought it years ago to wear walking in the mountains, he doesn't even walk to the store,"

Jordan let out a half-laugh. "My dad's going away a couple of days this week. I'm not saying-, just tell me you'll come visit,"

The moonlight made him look almost celestial; it reflected in his eyes and cast shadows across his face.

She nodded, and watched him walk away, waiting until he had made the turn around the side of the house before she closed the back door. Nothing, not even a geometry mid-term, could compare to the intensity of being with Jordan Catalano.

When Angela returned to her room she sat cross-legged on the bed. She could hardly believe her own actions, as soon as he walked through the door being so totally unable to control herself. Having worried for so long that she was too introspective, always running things over in her mind to the point of exhaustion, to suddenly discover she could abandon all thought of consequence merely at the sight of him.

--

Jordan was thankful for Graham's coat on the walk home, as the temperature had dropped in the time since he had walked to the house. In truth he knew it had probably been a bad idea to walk. His leg was aching, it hadn't been broken but he had dislodged the kneecap, and he had been told not to walk any considerable distance for at least two weeks.

He thought back to the night of the crash – what he could remember of it. In the seconds he saw the car coming toward them the only thought in his mind was to protect Angela. He shuddered as he remembered the scenario that had played out in his mind during the time that, he later discovered, he had been unconscious. He had opened his eyes to find himself alone in a hospital bed. Walking out into the corridor he had seen Patty and Graham standing a little further down. As he approached them he realised Patty was crying, and as he got nearer she turned and strode towards him, taking hold of his hospital robe with both hands and shaking him repeating over and over "it's your fault". He had tried to get away; he managed to get her hands off him, but for some reason he couldn't move. Looking up he saw Graham shaking his head, and he knew then that Angela had died.

There was so much he wanted to say to her but the fear of scaring her away prevented him from even trying. Plus, he knew it wouldn't come out right – what was the point? But he couldn't control the urge to be near her, he needed the proof that what he saw in his dream was wrong and she was still there. She was the only thing that made sense in his life. The need to just be alone with her and forget everything else was so strong Jordan was almost afraid of it.

--

Sharon came back to Angela's after school the following day. They made popcorn and took it up to Angela's room.

There was so much Angela wanted to ask. The last time she had spoken to Sharon about sex she had felt as though there was a gulf between them. Not just because Angela was a virgin but because sex still felt like something other people did, not something she would ever do. But now it was as if Angela had a new understanding. She was still a virgin, but now having sex with Jordan seemed like an actual reality, something she would actually consider, was actually considering.

"You know when we talked and you said you just knew that you wanted to-, with Kyle," Angela began cautiously.

Sharon nodded, taking another handful of popcorn and inwardly relishing the possibility of a girly conversation.

"Like," Angela stared at her hands, "how did you know--that you were ready?"

Sharon considered her reply, "I guess you just stop seeing the reasons not to," she observed her oldest friend and sensed her consternation, "are you thinking about doing it with Jordan?"

Angela smiled slightly, still a little embarrassed to talk about it, "it's not like a decision I've made, it's more like I can't even help it. I can't help thinking about it," she leant toward Sharon and lowered her voice slightly, "I think about it all the time,"

Sharon smiled, remembering how it felt.

Angela started to laugh, "last night, he came to the house,"

Sharon gasped.

"I don't know what happened to me. As soon as he walked through the door," Angela tried to control her giggles, "I mean I practically jumped on him," she stated almost shocked at herself.

They laughed together, trying not to be too loud in case Patty heard them.

"I don't know-, I mean I still don't know completely what to make of him. He never talks; I mean I know so little about him. He would rather talk to my mother than me," Angela shook her head at the absurdity of it.

"That's just Jordan,"

Angela felt the excitement of a few moments ago subside a little, "I know,"

"Look," Sharon took hold of both her hands, "it's your decision Angela, but don't let it-," she sighed, "just don't let it overshadow everything else okay?"

Angela nodded.

"So you and Kyle, you're like back together?"

Sharon took a deep breath, "not everything is perfect Angela, sometimes you just gotta do what feels right for now,"

"When did things get so complicated? Do you remember when we used to sit in your room and worry ourselves to death about who we were gonna sit next to if we got put in different classes in high school?"

Sharon let out a laugh, "Yeah, like it was the end of the world," she secretly longed for that simplicity. "Is that what you're afraid of? Everyone has to grow up, and it's gonna to happen whether you have sex or not,"


	5. Chapter 5

It surprised Jordan how much he actually missed being at school. True, he spent most of his time doing everything he could to skip class but he still missed the routine. And he missed Angela.

His father was getting ready to leave, California this time. He was a salesman for a pharmaceutical company, which meant he was away from home a lot. Jordan couldn't remember ever seeing his father for longer than a few days at a time when he was a kid. By the time he turned thirteen it dawned on his father that his son was quickly becoming a young man and that he didn't know him at all. It frightened him and their relationship, such as it was, became strained. The situation was made worse when they both awoke one morning shortly after Christmas to find Jordan's mother had left in the night without leaving a note or any forwarding address. For the first time his father was forced to stay at home. Father and son were thus left with only each other, a terrifying prospect for them both.

Jordan had already begun getting in trouble; skipping school, stealing, hotwiring cars. Never having had the necessary experience, his father struggled to control him or discipline him the way most parents would. Instead he just got angry.

It came to a head when Jordan was sixteen; he was found with alcohol in school and his father was called in. They drove home in silence but almost as soon as the front door was closed the fighting began. His father blamed Jordan for his mother leaving, accusing him of turning her against her husband. Jordan, in turn, blamed his father for never being there, for caring more about his job than his family, even carrying on with other women. When the fight moved from the verbal to the physical Jordan fought back for the first time. A strong shove sent him sprawling over the coffee table, landing awkwardly against the hearth and, he later discovered, breaking his arm but he had enough strength to pick up the stool from his mother's piano and throw it in the direction of his father. It caught him against the shoulder and he fell backwards against the wall.

Whilst they waited together to be seen at the hospital they both agreed that they were better on their own. Jordan was allowed to remain at the house but he would have to support himself and keep out of his father's way when he was home. They spoke now only when the occasion absolutely demanded it and never for longer than was necessary.

Jordan sometimes found himself wondering what it would have been like to have a proper father figure. A normal dad like Shane's or Angela's. Maybe things would have turned out better, maybe he would have turned out better.

He had at least another few days before the doctors would give him the all clear to go back to school. He was actually quite proud of himself; he had used the time productively trying to get through his first ever novel. He chose Of Mice and Men, even bought his own copy from a second hand bookstore, he hadn't managed to finish it but he was pretty close to half-way through and it was actually making sense.

Downstairs his father was finishing a final phone call; he eyed Jordan as he descended the stairs. Jordan went through to the kitchen and took a packet of biscuits from his cupboard, he observed his father out of the corner of his eye pacing up and down in the living room trying desperately to bring the phone conversation to a close, glancing up at the clock every now and then. At last he was able to end the call, he approached the kitchen so Jordan quickly turned his focus back to trying to undo the top of the biscuits.

There was an awkward moment as his father tried to reach across him to pick up his bottle of water. Jordan ended up picking it up and handing it to him.

"Thanks,"

Jordan made no reply.

"No parties,"

Jordan nodded.

He listened for the front door to close. Another couple of days alone.

--

Angela closed the door of her locker and, as she did so, revealed Brian's face. She jumped.

"For God's sake Brian," she exclaimed, pressing her palm against her chest to steady her heart.

"Sorry,"

Angela tried to regain her composure.

"So do you wanna do something tonight?"

Angela frowned, "what?"

"I mean since we didn't go to the movies the other week. I thought maybe we could go, like tonight?"

"I can't tonight,"

"Oh, well maybe some other time then--like tomorrow?" Brian looked on hopefully.

"Brian. What is this?"

"Nothing,"

Angela shook her head and walked away. She didn't get far before she heard her name.

"Angela?"

It wasn't Brian's voice. She turned. Shane shifted awkwardly on the spot.

"It is Angela right?"

Angela nodded.

"So did you see Jordan?"

Angela tucked her hair behind her ears, "yeah,"

_You know the feeling when you can feel your face turning bright red and the more you know it's obvious, the redder it gets?_

"He's okay right? I mean I saw him once at the hospital but his dad turned up and-,"

"And what?"

"You know, they went home,"

Angela's hopes floundered that Shane might let slip some more details about Jordan's relationship with his father, "he's gonna be back in school pretty soon,"

Shane nodded, "that's good,"

Angela half smiled and went to turn away to head to class.

"That's good right, Angela?"

She turned back and saw in his face that the question posed didn't quite encompass everything he was actually asking.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"You know he's been like a brother to me, or whatever,"

Angela turned slowly and continued to class, Shane's words and the general weirdness of their exchange reverberated in her mind.

In English she missed Jordan more than ever. She allowed herself to think back to a few nights before, to the unbelievable softness of his skin and the dark blue almost violet of his eyes in the semi-darkness of the kitchen.

She would need a cover story. She would never get away with saying she slept at Sharon's. Patty and Camille were practically attached at the hip, especially since Patty had begun worrying about Graham, she was bound to get found out. And she couldn't stay at Mr Katimski's with Rickie. That only left one person.

Angela found Rayanne in the girl's bathroom talking to Sharon.

"Hey," Sharon smiled.

"Hey," Angela casually lent against the wall next to them, "so who are we dissing?"

Rayanne was more than a little surprised at the lightness of her tone considering their last exchange.

"Pretty much everybody," Sharon concluded, "you okay?"

"Yeah. Actually I kinda need a favour,"

"Sure, name it?"

"I meant Rayanne,"

Rayanne looked up slowly, "you need a favour from me?"

Angela shifted, "yeah, it's sort of like I need to tell my parents that I'm staying at your place tonight,"

Sharon gasped, "is this about Jordan?"

Angela, taken aback by her friend's unusual lack of tact, tried to shhhh Sharon but realised it was already too late and immediately felt foolish.

"What about Jordan?" Rayanne was still out in the cold.

"Nothing," Angela protested, "Sharon!"

The meaning struck Rayanne, "oh my God!" she jumped down from the ledge where she had been sitting, and took hold of both of Angela's hands, "Angelika do not tell me you are finally ready to," she ducked down to check under the lavatory doors, "go all the way?" she completed the sentce in a harsh whisper.

The door opened and Rickie entered, immediately pausing at the sight of the three overly excited girls, "okay what did I miss?"

"Angela is mmmmm mmmmmm mm" Rayanne began but was quickly quietened by Sharon's hand across her mouth, she continued speaking but it was muffled, and struggled until Sharon was forced to let her go, "with Jordan!"

"Great, the abridged version," Rickie scuttled closer to get further details.

"I'm not saying I'm definitely going to," Angela began, "it's not like I'm timetabling it,"

"So when's it happening?" Rayanne cut to the chase.

"Tonight--maybe,"

All three of them let out various yelps and semi-muted cheers. Angela found that she wasn't embarrassed having told them all, in fact she felt relieved, even excited, fuelled by their excitement.

"My mom's at Rusty's tonight and my house is like literally blocks away from Casa Catalano so Patty can actually drop you off, it's like a water-tight alibi. Oh my God this is so exciting," Rayanne jumped up and down, taking hold of Rickie's hands, they jumped around the girls' bathroom together.

Sharon smiled at Angela, "you're sure about this?"

"Yeah," Angela replied, "I mean, why not?"

--

Patty dropped Angela and Sharon at Rayanne's and Rickie arrived shortly after. The three of them helped Angela put on some make-up and do her hair. It made her feel good to have them fussing over her, it made it seem special. She refused to let her mind slip to thoughts about Rayanne and Jordan.

As she walked the few blocks to Jordan's street Angela began to wish she could have stayed at Rayanne's and had the pampering and preparation go on forever.

The house was dark and she wondered whether there was anyone home, but as she walked around to the back door she noticed a light on in one of the upstairs rooms. The door opened and Jordan greeted her with his usual slow smile, "I was hoping you'd come here tonight,"

On the way Angela had prepared any number of greetings, casual, formal, even sexy. But all words now seemed impossible, for a rudimentary reader with low literacy skills he sure knew how to work a sentence.

Jordan stepped aside to let Angela in.

"So this is your kitchen?"

Jordan smirked, "come on,"

He took her by the hand and led her through to the living room. It was large and not unlike her own. Angela had expected an altogether less well-appointed house, Jordan never looked as though he came from a particularly well off family yet his home would suggest otherwise.

She noticed something on the coffee table, a book lying open. She picked it up.

"What's this?"

Jordan smiled shyly, "it's a book that I'm reading,"

Angela flicked through a few pages.

"Have you read it?"

Angela shook her head.

"It's kinda okay,"

Angela smiled and placed the book back down on the table. Now she was actually there Angela didn't feel quite as confident as she had done sitting in her English class in the morning.

"So can I see you room?" she tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to act nonchalant, "I mean, do you have some music that we could listen to or something up there?"

_I felt like a siren luring an unwary sailor to his downfall by my womanly wiles. Who am I kidding? Jordan's no sailor, and even if I had womanly wiles I wouldn't know what to do with them._

"You wanna go upstairs?" Jordan repeated slowly.

Angela smiled "yeah, I mean if you want to,"

Both of them had just about lost track of which side of the line this conversation was actually situated.

"To listen to music?" Jordan frowned in sincere uncertainty.

_I couldn't bring myself to actually say it. Jordan Catalano please, just put me out of my misery and take me upstairs._

"I'm sorry maybe I shouldn't have come," she made for the door.

"No, wait," Jordan took hold of her wrist as she passed him to prevent her from getting any further, "just," he let go of her wrist and took hold of her hand instead, "say what you mean,"

Angela looked down at his hand holding hers; his thumb was running back and forth over her knuckles. "Can we go upstairs?" with the last syllable she dared look up into his face.

The look in her eyes, a mixture of lust and trepidation, set to rest any doubts Jordan might have had about her actual intentions. He led her upstairs to his room. Her grip on his hand became tighter as they neared the door; he wasn't sure whether she had noticed. He wanted to ask her if she was sure, he wanted to reassure her that it would be okay, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, but of all the ways he ran through it in his head nothing sounded right.

Angela carefully draped Jordan's shirt over the back of his desk chair and he was immediately struck by guilt at having allowing hers to simply drop to the floor. He quickly picked it up and placed it next to his, his actions eliciting a giggle from Angela.

She instinctively tried to cover herself when Jordan first lifted off the white tank top Sharon had insisted she wore.

"Don't,"

Jordan gently pulled her arms away from her body and brought her hands to rest against his shoulders, now bare as he had long since discarded most of his own clothes.

Angela closed her eyes and savoured the feel of Jordan's skin. He felt warm, as if he'd just stepped indoors on a sunny day; her own skin, she thought, was always cold.

"What's wrong?"

Angela looked up to meet his concerned gaze.

"Nothing," she whispered.

Jordan thought back to the night at the empty house and how angry he had been when Angela ran away.

"You're sure about this?"

She nodded.

"What made you change your mind?"

Angela hesitated, "do we have to discuss this now?"

_It's difficult enough just to be standing here semi naked in front of you; do we really have to have a conversation?_

Jordan took a step closer and Angela gasped as he came into full contact with her body. He ran a finger down the outer edge of her ear, focussing on it as if it had become like his whole world.

"You know why," Angela began, "you could have died, we both could, and I-,"

Words failed her as Jordan's hand ran down her back and the other set about unfastening her jeans. His fingers slipped underneath her panties and it was all she could do to stop herself from crying out. Part of her had wanted this from the first moments she set eyes on Jordan Catalano at a careers fare. She had dreamt of it once and woke up soaked in sweat. The next night she tried to force herself to dream it again, convinced that if she fell asleep thinking about Jordan the dream would repeat. But as with all great dreams, it could not be reconjured.

--

Jordan lay awake listening to the silence of the house. He had no idea what time it was, only that a short while ago the dog next door had been barking signalling the return of his owner from the night shift.

His thoughts were interrupted when the bedcovers were dragged from over him and he was exposed to the chilly temperature of the room. Angela sighed contentedly in her sleep as she wrapped the covers around her and buried her face further into the soft pillow.

Ignoring the goose bumps running up his legs Jordan lay back and smiled at the recollection of the night's events. The draft from beneath the bedroom door caressed his cooling skin, reminiscent of Angela's touch. The sight of her beneath him and the feel of her fingers running up and down his side flashed across his mind and sent a shiver through his body. She was perfect, tentative at first, and pliant, but she had grown in confidence as the night wore on.

He turned to look at the figure beside him; before he knew it he had run a hand down her bare back, exposed where she had pulled the covers too far over herself. He lingered at her shoulder, and the pattern of red marks leading up to her hairline. They had faded since last night but even so, against her pale skin, they would certainly be noticeable.

She turned back toward him, still hugging the covers to her, and opened her eyes. It seemed to take her a few moments to remember where she was and why, and for a second Jordan was nervous that her reaction might be one of regret or sadness. To his relief she smiled.

"Morning," Jordan swept a strand of hair away from her face.

"What time is it?"

"Early," he noticed his watch on the floor next to the bed and picked it up, "six thirty,"

Angela smiled and was just about to settle back down on the soft pillows when she noticed Jordan was totally uncovered. She gasped, "oh my God, here," she unravelled herself from the covers and tried to manipulate them so that Jordan had his fair share.

He laughed, "it's okay, I needed to cool down anyway,"

Angela sat up, wrapping the covers around her shoulders. She tried to fix her gaze on Jordan's face, or at least his upper body, but she blushed regardless simply at the idea of what she might see if her gaze drifted south. Jordan reached up and tugged slightly at the covers tucked under her chin, smirking when she gripped them tighter in response. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back against the pillow and rested his right hand against his chest. Angela noted how he unconsciously stroked his index finger back and forth against his skin. Watching closely for any sign that he might open his eyes Angela slowly drew the covers apart that she had been grasping together in front of her and lowered herself down so that she lay right against Jordan's side. Draping the covers over him, she rested her hand on his against his chest. She felt his arm move next to her as he reached around to pull her even tighter against him.

"How long is your father away?"

"Until Thursday,"

Angela ran her fingers up and down Jordan's body, "what does he do? I mean what's his name? I don't even know his name," she looked up at him.

Jordan smiled wearily and bit his bottom lip, "let's not talk about it,"

"Well I should know, I mean you've met my parents,"

"Come here," he pulled her further up toward him until her face was near enough for him to kiss her, and he did so passionately.

Angela began to pull away but Jordan held her firmly in the kiss until she finally forced her away, "Jordan, my wrist,"

Jordan retreated and Angela freed her wrist from between them, she pouted and rubbed it before settling back down against his chest.

"Is he in sales? Is that why he's always away? Don't you get lonely here?"

Jordan flung back the covers and stood up, leaving Angela unceremoniously sprawled on the bed. He pulled on his boxers.

"Jordan?"

He left the room.

Angela found him downstairs in the kitchen washing up his dinner plates and glass from the night before. She approached him slowly and, picking up the drying cloth from beside the sink, she began drying off the plates.

"You don't have to do that,"

"It's okay," she went to take the next plate but Jordan stayed her hand.

"Don't,"

Angela, confused, folded the drying cloth and placed it back where she had found it.

Jordan sighed deeply, "I just-, you being here-," he rubbed his face, "why do you ask so many questions?"

Angela immediately turned to the offensive, "because I want to know you better, you never tell me anything about yourself," she remembered the day in the classroom when Jordan had confessed he couldn't read, "okay so maybe you've told me a couple of things but it's like you put up these barriers and I can't even see you behind them," her frustration gathered momentum when she saw the dismissive look in Jordan's face, "I barely know you at all,"

"So what are you still doing here?"

Jordan turned a steely gaze toward her. His chest was heaving, Angela didn't know why, perhaps anger, perhaps not. Eyes stinging with tears, she shook her head and made for the back door.


	6. Chapter 6

The street outside was eerily quiet and Angela suddenly felt disorientated despite having found her way to Jordan's house with no problems the night before. She glanced left and right, the streets seemed to have altered their course overnight and there were trees where before there had been none. Her legs felt unsteady and she was slightly dizzy with hunger.

"Angela,"

Jordan emerged from the gloom fastening his shirt as he approached her. Angela refused to meet his gaze; instead she pulled up the collar of her shirt as if it would conceal her from him. Apparently it didn't work.

"I was stupid,"

She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms as if expectant that more grovelling was to come. But there was nothing else. With a shake of the head Angela turned away.

"Wait, what do you want me to say?" Jordan followed her, barefoot, a little way down the street.

When she knew he was within range of hearing her Angela finally made some sort of response, though she didn't stop walking and refused to turn around to face him, "how could I have even thought this was a good idea? I'm so stupid. I can't believe I actually had sex with you,"

"Will you wait a minute?"

Angela stopped and allowed Jordan to catch up. She felt sick, she felt as though she didn't want to be anywhere near him, the thought of him touching her.

"At least let me walk you home,"

"I'm going back to Rayanne's,"

"I could walk you there,"

"I don't want you to walk me. How can you even be like this now?"

"Like what? It was you, you-," Jordan stammered, "you ask all these questions,"

Angela glanced up at the early morning sky in exasperation, "oh right, I ask questions. Oh dear God how terrible. I just want to know who you are, you never talk to me about yourself,"

He hesitated as if knowing the words he was about to speak were going to be taken out of context by an irate Angela, "maybe I don't want to,"

She frowned, frustrated and hurt, "don't follow me Jordan,"

_Like he ever would, like he would ever go out of his way to do anything but hurt me. _

By the time Jordan had decided he would follow her she was almost at the church at the end of the street, the church where Jordan himself had been christened in happier times. The occasional small stone on the sidewalk sent a shock of pain through the sole of his foot as he jogged, as best he could, after the now shrinking figure in the near distance. But he was glad of the pain, glad of the reminder that this was actually happening and not just a bad dream. Only minutes ago he had been watching her sleep, torn between waking her to see her smile, and leaving her to watch a little longer. His mind hadn't quite caught up with this sudden turn of events; he hadn't had the time to adapt to this new situation, as if he was ever sufficiently adjusted to any situation.

As a child he had spent a lot of time on his own. He had never liked school and took every opportunity to bunk off, preferring to sit alone on the riverbank and practice skimming stones across its surface. He was happy in his own company but as a result he missed the valuable foundations of social behaviour learnt by the young. As he grew up he discovered people were drawn to him nonetheless, mistaking his social inadequacy for something far cooler, like rebellion.

Knowing no other way of showing her how he felt, when he eventually caught up with Angela, Jordan caught hold of her arm, which had been swinging wildly in time with her determined walk. He pulled her toward him, though she grimaced and tried to pull away, and he kissed her.

With a palm firmly to his chest Angela sent Jordan stumbling backwards, hissing in pain when his bare foot met a jagged piece of plastic on the ground. His eyesight was blurry with tears, whether from the pain in his foot or the look on Angela's face, he didn't know.

"Angela,"

"What are you afraid of?" she shot back, "are you afraid I'll laugh at you?"

"What?"

"Do you really think this is some sort of a game to me? You think having sex with you was just something I did and now I just move along. Did it even mean anything to you?"

It had meant the world to him.

"Well what about you? You're not exactly Mrs Open-talker. I mean you and your parents don't get on too good right? You don't talk to me about them. I come to your house the night of the crash and your mom's all dolled up like a cheap hooker to meet up with some guy she knew at school. I mean that's not exactly normal but you never talk about your parents. So why should I?"

Angela stared at him, struck half dumb by his outburst, "how can you say those things?"

The hurt and confusion in her face set off a pounding in Jordan's head, "I'm sorry,"

"I have only ever been honest with you. I just want to know who Jordan Catalano is. I thought if we-, but I guess I was just being naïve wasn't I? So don't worry, at least you can add me now to Cynthia Hargrove and whoever else it is you've slept with,"

She turned away, and this time Jordan did not follow her.

--

"What happened? Did he hurt you?"

Rayanne followed Angela through to her room desperate to discover why her friend had arrived back at a ridiculously early hour of the morning with tear stained cheeks and missing a tank top and socks.

Angela flopped down on to Rayanne's bed, pulled a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes. Rayanne knelt down next to her on the floor and watched the silent tears slip from her friend's closed eyes despite her obvious efforts to stop them.

Rayanne felt awkward, like she had no right to try and help Angela considering they weren't that close right now, and considering that it had to do with Jordan. It all seemed more than a little messed up and confusing. The fact that Rayanne had emptied half a bottle of whiskey after Sharon left the night before wasn't helping matters.

"So," she began finally, still not certain it was the right course to take to confront Angela, "did you and Jordan like-,"

Angela made no response.

"Do you want me to go away?" Rayanne asked at length. She was about to stand when finally Angela spoke.

"How do you get over it?"

Rayanne slowly sunk back down to her knees "get over what?"

Angela opened her eyes, "being with someone like that,"

"What, you mean like sex? You and Jordan had sex?"

Angela seemed not to have heard the question, or perhaps chose not to answer it directly, "being that close to a person and then just walking away?"

Rayanne shrugged, "I dunno," but she realised Angela needed more of an answer than that at this moment, "I guess I don't look at it like that. It's not about the person, it doesn't matter who they are or what they mean to me. It's just about the moment,"

"Was it like that with Jordan?"

Alarm bells began to ring in Rayanne's mind. She had to tread carefully, but at the same time she knew Angela could read her as clearly as she could any book, she would pick up on any attempt to sugar the pill.

"No," she said slowly, "I guess with Jordan I felt something." Her gaze darted around the room; everywhere but directed at Angela, "I dunno, I needed him,"

"Why him?"

Rayanne let out a long sigh and then answered in barely a whisper, "because he was yours,"

Angela closed her eyes and clutched the pillow tighter to her. Rayanne carefully pulled the blanket from the bottom of the bed over her friend, who gratefully gathered it around her shoulders.

"So are you gonna tell me what happened tonight? Or would you rather talk to Sharon?"

_As much as I trusted Sharon for some reason the only person I wanted to talk to was Rayanne._

"We had sex,"

Rayanne waited to see if there would be anymore of an explanation but that seemed to be it. "What, and you didn't like it? It's okay not to like it your first time,"

"I liked it,"

Rayanne hadn't prepared for that answer. "Oh,"

"I thought if I did it I'd feel closer to him, like he would start being honest with me,"

"About what?"

"About everything. I mean I don't even know his father's name,"

"His father's name is Ed," Rayanne replied flippantly. She noted how Angela seemed to grimace, "I mean-, but I only know that because Tino told me,"

"When I got that letter Rayanne, I thought that was it," Angela's eyes seemed to well with tears again, "I thought he was ready to be open with me, to finally tell me how he felt, but he didn't write it. Even now, even after-," she sighed, "everything. He's not capable of it,"

"Of what?" Angela's musings were slightly too philosophical for Rayanne to keep up.

"Opening his heart,"

"That's just Jordan,"

Angela smiled wearily, "that's exactly what Sharon said,"

--

In school Angela felt uncomfortable. She imagined everyone could tell what she had done the night before, like it would show some how. As she walked down the corridor to her locker she thought she heard her name whispered among a group of girls, and she could have sworn she caught two guys making rude gestures in her direction. She remembered back to the last time she had felt like this, when the rumours had been flying about her and Jordan. It seemed so long ago now, when she would have done anything for the rumours to be true. Now it felt different, her face felt hot like when she was a kid trying to hide the fact she'd done wrong from her mother. To her surprise she was relieved to find Brian waiting near her locker. As she approached he pretended to search for something in his bag.

"Erm, I can't find my copy of the results from biology," he began, "I think I lent them to you last week,"

Angela reached into her locker and pulled out the piece of paper, handing it to him with barely a glance.

"Thanks," he noticed her sullen expression, "is everything okay?"

Angela reached in and took out the books she needed.

"My mom is still reeling from you calling the other week. She's like obsessed with you now or something, she keeps asking me to ask you over. I mean not that I have any reason to ask you over so that's just ridiculous. It's just this fixation she has. I think it's a midlife crisis personally,"

"Do you want to go see a movie this weekend?" she suddenly turned to him.

The books slipped in his arms and Brian had to quickly catch a science textbook that threatened to fall to the floor.

"I mean you asked yesterday,"

"Oh yeah, right," Brian was surprised still to be standing upright.

"So seven thirty Saturday?"

"Yeah,"

Angela responded with a slight nod before she disappeared into the crowds leaving Brian dumbfounded, confused and slightly uncertain as to what actually just happened.

Angela found Sharon waiting for her just around the corner.

"So,"

Angela smiled, "so,"

Sharon grinned, "are you going tell me or do I have to guess?"

"_Can_ you guess?" Angela asked seriously, glancing down at herself in case there was some sort of sign that she had actually had sex.

Sharon realised the answer was the affirmative. She shook her head and noted a look of relief flash across her friend's face.

"So how was it?"

"How was it? You make it sound like a book or a plate of spaghetti,"

Sharon was insistent, "well?"

Angela hesitated, "Yeah it was-," she smiled.

Sharon giggled, "I knew it. So what was he like?"

"Sharon," Angela flushed bright pink.

"What? You're my friend, we're supposed to discuss these things, it's like a rite of passage or something,"

"No,"

"Come on Angela,"

"No," she laughed.

"At least tell me," she pulled Angela to the side of the corridor, "was he, like, passionate?"

"Shut up!" Angela giggled and began nibbling the top of her nail checking the corridor in case anyone might be eavesdropping.

"Please, I'm like totally starved of girl talk like this, none of my other friends have done it yet,"

_It was then that it sank in. I had crossed the line; I was no longer a virgin._

"Come on Angela," Sharon was holding one of her hands now and shaking it up and down in frustration.

"It was nice,"

"Nice?"

Angela gave in once again to the giggles, "okay it was more than nice,"

Sharon grinned, "yay, I knew it would be," she catches sight of one of her classmates moving toward their classroom, "I'd better go, you have to tell me more later okay." With one final excited grin, Sharon dashed across the corridor after her classmate leaving Angela gripping her exercise books as if somehow she could transfer the tension in her body to them.

--

_I felt like a fugitive in my own home. I did everything possible to avoid my mother; there was just no way she wouldn't notice something about me had changed._

Angela pushed the bathroom door slightly ajar to check if the landing was clear. Believing she had made sufficiently sure she stepped out.

"So you are still living here,"

Angela slowly turned. Patty had appeared from Danielle's room carrying a pile of laundry.

"I was beginning to wonder,"

Angela's mouth fell open as if to offer an explanation. Unfortunately her mind hadn't quite sprung into action as quickly as her face and she was still pulling together some sort of response. "I had a lot of homework,"

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine,"

"Anything you want to talk about?"

_O__h God, parental telepathy. It's a conspiracy._

Angela tried, and failed, to look blasé, "no,"

Patty tried, and failed, to look convinced, "okay,

Angela watched her mother disappear down the stairs. Secretly she wished she could talk to her, but the idea of actually telling Patty about her and Jordan having sex was like some kind of hellish nightmare.

Angela retreated back into her room and closed the door. Her mind felt as though it was splitting in two, she couldn't help but think back to the night she had spent with Jordan and how perfect it had been before it got ruined. It was the first time she had actually allowed herself to dwell on it; how wonderful Jordan had been, how gentle and understanding, how much they laughed and teased and lay in silence. She thought about how safe she had felt with his arms around her, surrounded by his warmth. But then she thought about how quickly it had turned to something less than perfect, how he had so quickly become like a stranger afterwards and how she wished he would just be honest with her and show her everything there was to see of Jordan Catalano.

--

It was late when Jordan pulled up outside the Chases', later than he had reckoned on, but it took him longer than expected to get his father's old car running again. As the engine silenced it suddenly struck him that he hadn't actually thought about what he would say to Angela when she appeared in the doorway. As the back door opened Jordan took a deep breath, fully prepared for the door to be slammed immediately in his face. Such was his anxiety that almost as soon as the first wedge of light appeared around the door he began his hastily prepared explanation.

"Angela, I know it's late and I'm like the last person you wanna-,"

Jordan was silenced by the appearance of Graham in the doorway.

"Oh,"

Graham looked almost as puzzled and uncomfortable as Jordan.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Jordan dithered, "no … do you?"

"It's late,"

"Right." Jordan automatically felt uncomfortable in Graham's presence – and not just because he'd had sex with his daughter only a few days ago. Never having had a particularly good relationship with his own father, Jordan didn't really know how the whole father/child relationship worked, let alone the father/daughter angle. "Is Angela in?"

"Yes, she's in bed, same as every other sensible person at this time of night,"

"Yeah, sorry,"

Jordan went to turn away, breathing a frosty breath into the night air.

"Wait," Graham sighed, unable to justify allowing the young man to disappear into the night without at least offering him something to eat first, "you hungry?"

The pair sat either side of the kitchen table eating some reheated pasta. Jordan hadn't had a decent meal in a while, he wasn't much of a cook and he hadn't been managing his budget too well lately meaning he couldn't afford many of the things he liked best.

"Stuff never tastes like this when I reheat it, just tastes like--nothin'"

Graham twisted some more spaghetti on to his fork, "you cook much?"

"Not really. I got a book, like a recipe book, but I-, it didn't make much sense,"

"You just gotta take it one step at a time,"

Graham looked over at the young man struggling to get a particularly pesky strand of spaghetti to stay on his fork. Immediately after the accident Graham had been unsure how to act or what to do. He wanted to protect his daughter and part of him was angry with Jordan for endangering Angela, but part of him felt for Jordan too. When there was no sign of Jordan's own father for so long Graham had begun to feel protective of him, he thought he could identify what it was about this young man that had his daughter so enraptured. Angela had always been drawn to wounded creatures.

"So how are things, with you and Angela?"

Instead of making eye contact Graham posed his question whilst seeming to concentrate extremely hard on his spaghetti so as not to make it seem too much of a big deal.

Jordan gripped his fork a little tighter as he was forced to wrestle once again with the issue of Angela, "it's great,"

Graham looked up, not wanting to frighten the kid but not willing to accept a blatant lie either, "you know my daughter's barely left her room for three days? Now you come around here at two in the morning, you tell me everything's just great." With no reply forthcoming Graham shifted up a gear, "unless of course you came here so late for other reason, like you were planning on sleeping with Angela. In which case I'll give you a three minute head start, what with your leg and all, before I-,"

"It's not like that," Jordan interjected, "I came to apologise. I said some things and Angela got upset,"

"What things?"

"More like some stuff I didn't say,"

Graham frowned "okay, something she needs to know?"

"She wants to know. It's like she's on some kind of mission or something, she just won't be satisfied, it's never enough for her,"

"You've lost me,"

"There's stuff okay, stuff about my family that she wants me to talk about and I just-, I'm not ready,"

Graham watched the young man fidget awkwardly in his seat, "I know Angela can be--persistent. But when it comes to secrets, telling the people you care about is a lot easier than struggling to keep it from them." As he spoke, his own words seemed to ring true to Graham himself.

"I don't want anything to change between us,"

"What you want it to stay like this? Angela in her room and you sneaking around in the early hours?"

"I guess not," Jordan had more or less given up on the pasta by now, instead he just prodded at various strands of the spaghetti with his fork. Jordan looked up to Graham, he was the sort of father he wished he could have had; one that actually gave a damn about what happened to his kids and acted like a real human being occasionally. "Were you awake just now?"

The quick turnaround in the conversation took Graham by surprise and as a result he stuttered, tellingly, as he began his explanation, "no. Well-, well yeah I was up. Reading, I was reading before bed,"

"Do you always read wearing your shoes?"

Graham was hoping he hadn't noticed.

"No," he laughed a little, "I was going to take the garbage out,"

Then again, perhaps every father has his secrets.


	7. Chapter 7

_Of all of the things that could have happened in my so-called teenage life I would never have imaged I would agree to meet Jordan Catalano in the boiler room at school. Or that we would end up, like, together. I could not have predicted that he would have sex with my best friend, that we would be like almost killed in a car accident and for it to bring us so close together that I would end up actually having sex with him. I would not have thought he could make me feel so mad, mad enough that I couldn't take it anymore. I would never have pictured myself on a Saturday night waiting outside my house for Brian Krakow to take me to the cinema._

Angela spotted Brian as soon as he stepped out of his house; the light above his door illuminated him like a little curly haired gnome in a ridiculous blazer. She cringed at the realisation he was carrying a bouquet of flowers. She wasn't quite sure what had come over her when she had asked Brian to the cinema. All she knew was he was straightforward when everything else in her life seemed complicated. Maybe she needed him.

Brian presented her with the flowers as he approached her porch. Angela took them, attempting to look grateful.

"Thanks,"

"They're white lilies,"

Angela smelt them.

"They had them at my Grandma's funeral,"

She frowned a little.

"I mean, not that it's morbid or anything. I just liked them," Brian stumbled.

"Shall we go?"

Brian nodded.

"Let me just put these in water,"

"Oh I have some instructions here that came with them, so you won't kill them,"

Angela took the slip of paper Brian held out to her before disappearing into the house.

Brian lingered on the porch while Angela was inside. He felt breathless. This was the moment he had waited for most of his adolescent life, when he and Angela would be alone together. This could be the night everything in his life changed.

They arrived at the cinema thirty-five minutes early; Brian had a thing about being early. They decided to wait outside for a while on the sidewalk.

"I guess they're still cleaning the theatre," Brian suggested.

"I don't know, I think maybe the showing before hasn't finished yet,"

Angela went to sit down on the curb but Brian was there before her to lay his coat down on the ground.

"Thanks,"

She was struck by the kindness of the act and felt the need to try and explain to Brian so that he wouldn't get the wrong impression.

"Brian, you know this is just a trip to the movies right? This isn't anything like official,"

"Oh yeah, of course,"

"Only the flowers and everything was kinda-,"

"Oh no, they were nothing, I thought maybe they would cheer you up. I mean you seemed kinda upset the other day, which is why I agreed to come with you tonight,"

"Brian you asked me first,"

"Well I mean you brought it up, I had more or less given up on the idea actually. I had a lot of other stuff to do this weekend,"

"Whatever,"

The doors opened and a crowd of people streamed out of the cinema, Angela and Brian found themselves suddenly surrounded by people.

"So are you?"

"What?"

"Upset?"

"No, why would I be?"

One of the passers by knocked Angela's shoulder as she passed, pushing her into Brian. She quickly righted herself and Brian decided immediately that he would never wash his shirt again.

Neither of them really paid much attention to the movie. All Angela could think of was Jordan. She imagined them going to see a film together, sat near the back, legs entwined, sharing popcorn. Of course neither of them would be able to resist the temptation brought about by sitting in the darkness, Jordan especially. Angela smiled at the thought of it. It would probably start with his hand on her knee and then him kissing her neck. Eventually her resolve would crumble and she would loose track of the film entirely, closing her eyes as Jordan's hand made its way from her knee up to her chest. She would drop the box of popcorn, unable to concentrate on anything other than how good it felt to have Jordan exploring her body in an environment that was so intimate and yet at the same time so public, like really naughty.

Angela dropped the popcorn.

Brian looked down at the pile of popcorn that now lay beside the toppled box on the floor.

Angela couldn't help the guilty expression on her face; even in the darkness Brian must have noticed it. She felt like a kid who had just been caught raiding the cookie jar and she cursed herself for allowing Jordan to invade her thoughts once again.

Brian couldn't quite work out why one of the characters in the movie was suddenly so angry. He realised something important must have happened during the moments he had looked away from the screen to examine Angela's face. He was thankful for the darkness that enveloped them as it allowed him to look at her without it being really obvious, yet the light from the screen illuminated her just enough that he could make out her features; her long eyelashes, the way her jaw moved as she chewed the popcorn.

As they left the cinema it was raining heavily and had been for some time, puddles had formed in every conceivable space. Brian immediately took off his coat and gave it to Angela. She took it thankfully and held it over her head and around her shoulders. Brian watched her struggle to hold the coat over her head against the wind. He smiled.

"What?" Angela asked amid her frustration.

"Nothing," but Brian couldn't keep the smile from his face.

As the pair lingered on the sidewalk a truck sped past them, sending the water from the gutter gushing over the sidewalk like a mini-tidal wave. The water splashed up and soaked the squabbling pair, who were immediately silenced. Each slowly looked up from their dripping attire and stared at one another in shock for a few moments before Angela finally burst into fits of hysterical laughter. Brian attempted to keep a straight face but the sight of her dripping wet, not to mention the way her clothes were now sticking to her body, eventually defeated him and he smiled.

They walked home slowly, occasionally laughing about the incident. Once or twice Angela's hand accidentally brushed Brian's, each time sending a warm rush up his arm. It seemed to Brian that he walked at least three feet off the ground. He felt as though, if he were just to kick his legs, he would spin off into the sky. He smiled at the thought; if he could just disappear into the night sky and become like some sort of star and have only the memory of this night for all eternity then he believed he would be content. They paused outside Angela's house.

"Thanks, I had a good time,"

Brian nodded, "good, I mean I'm glad. Maybe we could do it again--if you want?"

_There's something about Brian Krakow. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something always tells me not to dismiss Brian Krakow. I mean he's certainly no Jordan Catalano, but maybe that's the point. _

"Okay," she nodded.

"Really?" Brian asked - perhaps a little too excitedly.

"Why not,"

"But I mean what will Jordan Catalano think?"

"Why?"

"I just thought the two of you were back together. I mean I heard that somewhere. I think someone mentioned it,"

Angela rolled her eyes. Although she had quite happily enjoyed a fantasy about him in the cinema, the actual mention of his name brought back the feelings of anxiety and frustration.

"What difference does it make anyway?" she began in a tone perhaps more agrressive than Brian deserved, "what business is it of yours?"

"It's not," Brian reacted to her change of tone by becoming defensive himself, "nothing Jordan Catalano does is any business of mine,"

"Right, you're right it's not, you know nothing about him,"

"Neither do you,"

_Sometimes, without even knowing it, someone will say something that strikes like a dagger with pinpoint accuracy at the most painful place in your heart._

Angela went to turn away, "just go home Brian,"

"You can tell you know,"

She turned back, "what?"

"I'm just saying, people are talking about you. I mean I try not to listen to what they say but I'm just telling you,"

Angela froze on the spot and stared at him, trying to decifer if he was telling her this because he cared or because he knew it would hurt her. Was Brian capable of being so heartless?

Angela turned and disappeared into the house leaving Brian lingering on the porch whispering into the night air the words he wished he could say. No one was talking about her, he knew but he couldn't help but study what her reaction would be. He was certain he was the only one who could tell anything had changed, except perhaps Sharon. They had both known Angela for as long as they could remember. It was something about the way she stood, the way she occasionally placed her hand on her hip now, the way she looked at him. He knew, and it killed him.

**Thank you again for the reviews. This was a shorter chapter but I will update again soon xx**


	8. Chapter 8

Angela stayed in her room most of Sunday. She found herself occasionally walking over to her window to look across the street for any sign of Brian but he seemed to be keeping a low profile too. The night before had been weird. That was the only word for it. Following the accident Brian had like practically admitted he was in love with her but last night he seemed different, almost cold. She felt strangely guilty, even ashamed, as though she had betrayed Brian by sleeping with Jordan. Why did she feel as though she needed to gain his approval? They had known one another for as long as she could remember, she thought back to the afternoons when their mothers had been at work and they had played card games at his kitchen table. One day Angela had found Brian hiding a card in his lap that would have allowed him to win the game in one turn. She had shouted at him at the time for allowing her to win when obviously she could have won without his help, but later Angela had begun to look differently upon his actions.

The door of Brian's house opened and he emerged with his mom. Jennifer Krakow was dressed impeccably as usual, her effortless elegance made Brian look even more like some kind of rag doll with his messy hair, his ill-fitting clothing and his oddball walk. They both got into the car.

_It's strange; the things that make you feel most lonely. _

Angela watched the car disappear away down the street.

The door to her bedroom opened suddenly and Angela pushed herself away from the window so fast she almost fell over. Patty appeared carrying a stack of laundry.

"That red t-shirt of yours has dyed my grey blouse a strange pink colour." Patty began sorting out the laundry on Angela's bed. "Still, perhaps it was a little dull,"

_When I actually witness someone making the best of a bad situation, for some reason it kinda makes me wanna cry, like it makes your own thoughts suddenly feel really selfish._

Angela sat down next to the pile of laundry and began helping her mother to sort through it.

"Sorry,"

Patty looked up, "hmm?"

"About your blouse,"

Patty recognised the look in her daughter's face, she knew it was one of those rare occasions when Angela actually felt the need to confide in her. Patty relished these moments, especially now that she had begun to doubt Graham. She had felt so alone.

"Everything okay?"

Patty set aside a couple of t-shirts, which Angela then transferred to her drawers.

"Do you think Jordan is-, I mean do you-,"

Patty waited expectantly but it was clear Angela hadn't actually decided what it was she wanted to ask.

"So it's Jordan then. The reason you've been so quiet recently,"

"It's kind of like Jordan and me-,"

Patty took a deep breath, more than able to guess the rest of the sentence "I see,"

Angela looked up and knew immediately that her efforts to keep her secret from Patty had been totally futile.

Patty folded another set of t-shirts.

_What I always hated when I was kid was the way my mom would fold clothes when she was angry with me, like she would do it just a little bit faster than normal as if a tiny bit of the anger slipped out. _

"Mom, can you stop a minute?"

Patty sat down next to her daughter on the bed.

"Were you careful?"

"Mom,"

Patty knew it was the wrong thing to ask but she just had to make sure.

"I just-, I guess I just kinda wanted you to know,"

"Well I can't say I'm pleased. I mean maybe you could have waited, you know, a few years. Maybe until you were thirty,"

Angela looked up at her mother's face; Patty seemed to be staring off into space. Angela remembered when she was a child she always thought her mom was the most beautiful woman in the world, she remembered being proud of her when she came to collect her from kindergarten. It brought a tear to her eye to remember that.

Patty felt Angela's breath hitch next to her and she quickly wrapped her arms around her. As Angela sobbed into her shoulder Patty could feel her own tears rolling down her cheeks.

--

Jordan had watched nine episodes of a really crummy soap opera, which, for some reason, had been given a Sunday afternoon marathon. He had meant to turn the channel over eight episodes ago.

His father would be back in the evening and the house was a mess. Since the argument with Angela Jordan had barely ventured out; he hadn't been to school and had taken to eating cereal at every meal, since it was all that was left in the cupboards. He felt his cheek; three day's stubble.

The doorbell rang. For a split second Jordan thought it might be his father returned early but it quickly dawned on him that his dad would have no reason to use the bell.

He opened the door to the last person he would have expected.

"Hey,"

Rayanne tugged at the corners of her long plaid shirt, doing a sort of nervous dance in the doorway.

"So I saw Angela,"

Just the sound of her name seemed to draw all of the energy from his body, or what was left of it after several days of an all-cereal diet and no sleep.

"Yeah?"

"She said you guys had a fight or something,"

"So?"

"Well what's going on Catalano? Because I'm not having my girl crying over you,"

Jordan couldn't help but smile at the irony, "leave me alone Graf,"

He went to close the door but found Rayanne's reactions had not yet been dulled by alcohol and she managed to block the door with her foot just in time. Jordan allowed his head to fall back, taking a deep breath, resigned to the fact that Rayanne wasn't going to leave him alone until she got the answers she wanted. He took a packet of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and place one between his lips only for Rayanne to immediately snatch it.

"Don't-," she threw it to the ground, "I'm trying to talk to you,"

Jordan placed a hand on either side of the doorframe and leant into the open doorway.

"So what have you got to say for yourself?"

Jordan shrugged.

Rayanne shook her head quickly, "well? You gonna explain to me what's going on?"

"I don't know,"

"I'm not leaving without some kinda explanation so spill,"

"Ask Angela,"

"I'm asking you dumbass,"

"I'm not talking to you, it-, it's not right. Not after we-, I'm not discussing Angela with you,"

"Fine; I'll talk, you can just listen. What happened between you two the other night meant something to Angela, she's not like other people, she's not like--me. She's not the kind of girl you can just play with Catalano,"

Jordan took a deep breath, why did no one understand how much he cared about Angela.

Rayanne pointed a finger at him, "I'm not having you mess her around," but Rayanne looked slightly embarrassed at her last comment given her own behaviour toward Angela. She slowly lowered the pointed finger, "I'm trying to make it up to her all right,"

"So am I,"

"Yeah--well," she dithered, "just so you know, I'm watching you Catalano,"

Jordan's jaw tightened at her tone. How dare she judge him? He watched Rayanne retreat back to the waiting car, which he recognised as Tino's, struck by a sense of betrayal and a feeling of loneliness that almost overwhelmed him. He closed the front door to the empty house and set about tidying away some of the mess.

At seven-thirty Jordan heard the key in the lock of the front door. The sound always sent a chill down his spine, it reminded him of the numerous times that his father had come home from work at lunchtime only to find his son bunking off school. Jordan never had quite enough time to clear away all of the signs of his presence from the living room and to flee to the back yard. There would inevitably be a row, insults were hurled, disappointment and guilt piled on by the shovel load.

His father pushed struggled through the door carrying a suitcase as well as his briefcase. Jordan walked over to hold open the door for him.

"Thank you," was the brief reply.

"How was it?" Jordan asked tentatively. He had never asked his father about his business trips before, like in his whole life.

His father looked up in some surprise, "profitable," his gaze steadied for a moment on his son, "thank you,"

Jordan watched as he carried the case up the stairs and listened for the bedroom door to close. He slumped back down into an armchair and imagined sitting with his father talking over his trip; the people he met, the deals he made, the air conditioning in the car – anything.

--

Angela guessed they had been out shopping; when Jennifer and Brian arrived back Brian was carrying several bags. They probably contained several of the shirts Brian always wore, probably in pastel colours; one of them would probably be tucked into his trousers for school tomorrow. She thought about Jordan, how he allowed his shirts to just kinda hang there, as if he didn't care, didn't need to. But Brian's shirt was always in place, tucked away neatly.

Angela looked in the mirror; at her black leggings, her burgundy shorts, her grey t-shirt and at her red plaid shirt that hung loosely over her hips. Slowly she took hold of a small section of the plaid fabric and pushed it into the waistband of the shorts. Gradually, with almost a ceremonial slowness, she tucked in the remaining sections of her shirt. She picked up her brush from the dressing table and brushed out her hair before neatly tucking it behind her ears.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked odd; the tucked in fabric caused bulges and the shirt gaped awkwardly as a result of the modifications. But she liked it. The girl looking back at her reminded her a little more of the girl that existed before Rayanne Graf, before Jordan.

The following morning Angela found herself standing once again in front of the mirror. She wore a black skirt and the lavender top Sharon had bought her for her birthday the year before, and her hair was secured behind her ears with hair slides.

--

In high school clothes are your personality, like put on show. So when you change the way you dress people take notice because it's not just about the clothes it's about making a statement of who you are.

Angela pretended to be busy with something in her locker. She had caught sight of Jordan coming down the corridor out of the corner of her eye. But try as she might she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. He too seemed unable to simply pass by; in fact he stared at her, apparently surprised to see her dressed so differently. Angela pulled her top straight and made eye contact with him, attempting an act of defiance. But he looked so pale and sullen that she couldn't bring herself to torture him and so she looked away.

"Chase,"

She wasn't sure how long Brian had been standing behind her, time seemed to switch to slow motion whenever Jordan passed by. She turned.

"What is it Brian? Are you going to update me on the current school opinion of Angela Chase?"

"No. Why are you dressed like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like more how you used to,"

Angela glanced down at herself, "I didn't notice, my mom's kinda let the laundry slide,"

_Why do I care so much about his opinion?_

"Oh, well, it looks nice I guess," he muttered.

Brian had embarrassed himself; he quickly shuffled away down the corridor, daring a glance backwards.

Angela found it hard to explain the sense of warmth and contentment that spread through her body. Brian's words from the night before had hurt her, the idea of people in school talking about her was hard enough, but it was made worse by the fact that Brian himself now clearly knew something had happened between her and Jordan. It was as if Brian represented some part of her life that she longed to have back.

English was deafening. Angela could feel Jordan's gaze boring into her back; she could feel herself getting warm, her face flushing, images flashed across her mind; his eyes, his lips, his hands on her, she thought she could feel his breath on her neck, or was it wishful thinking? She shifted in her chair and very nearly allowed a small groan to escape her lips as a sharp flash of ecstasy shot through her body.

Brian was answering every question as usual, after Katimski had given up on anyone else actually responding to his Shakespeare challenges.

"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport," Katimski looked up, once again, expectantly at the class, "what does Gloucester mean here?"

No answer.

"Brian?" Katminski sighed.

Brian inhaled, about to begin.

Angela raised her hand.

"Oh, Angela?"

Brian turned around.

"Justice," she began.

"Go on," Katimski urged.

"He's saying that we have no control over what happens and that sometimes stuff happens that doesn't seem right, like it shouldn't be us to has to put up with it. But it is. And we can't change it,"

Katimski looked around the class for any further response. He nodded, "good Angela. I'd like to here more from you in this class,"

Angela looked down at her desk, both embarrassed and proud of herself. She couldn't help but look up at Brian--just out of curiosity.

The bell rang for end of class and everyone made a dash for the door. As Angela turned to leave she caught sight of Jordan heading for the door, he turned to her and frowned. As Angela passed through the door she heard his voice.

"Why are you doing this?"

She turned, Jordan was leaning against the wall.

"Doing what?"

"Acting all like different?"

"I'm not acting anything,"

Jordan closed his eyes and leant back against the wall.

He looked tired. Angela was reminded of visiting him in the hospital when he had looked so vulnerable and all she had wanted to do was to take him in her arms and tell him how scared she had been by the thought of loosing him. His hand hung loosely at his side. Angela reached out brushed the back of her hand over his. He opened his eyes and turned fully toward her, taking hold of both her hands.

"I don't know Angela, it's like there's expectations, and then there's like reality. You gotta know the difference,"

He let go and walked away. Angela remained frozen to the spot, the warm tingling feeling still ringing in her fingertips.

_It was the most profound thing he had ever said. And it would have been beautiful, if it hadn't been so true._


	9. Chapter 9

_I first met Angela Chase when my family moved on to her street when I was three years old. Patty used to bring Angela to my house when she had to go to work. My mom worked from home for a while; although she may as well have been miles away I saw so little of her. Angela and I must have spent hours just sitting at my kitchen table playing games or writing stories, we planned one day to write a series of children's books but we could never agree on whether the protagonist should be a boy or a girl._

Brian is slumped down in his desk chair, spinning idly from side to side.

_I don't remember the exact moment that she became more than just the girl across the road. I guess it could have been around five or six when she started wearing her hair in braids, she looked really pretty like that. She kissed me once, and I remember the feeling of her braid tapping my shoulder as she leant toward me. _

He sat up slightly as the Chase front door opened. He often watched the comings and goings of their home, curious as to what life was like over there on the other side of the street. He liked the way Angela's red hair looked redder in the sunlight, and the way she flicked it back before climbing into the car.

_So basically Angela and me have been like going places this last week. We went to see a movie last weekend and after school on Wednesday she asked me to go to the mall with her and we got ice cream, and then on Thursday we went to see Our Town. And this is all great, believe me it's so great. I just can't bring myself to quite believe it._

Another car pulled up outside the Chase house, an old car, more rust than metal. Brian watched as the door opened, leaning closer to the window to be sure of a positive identification. It was Jordan. He closed the car door and spun round to look up at Brian's window as if struck by some sudden gift for telepathy. Brian sprung from the window so fast he tripped over the desk chair and landed up sprawled on his floor.

_I mean, even with his faults, why would she ever choose a dork like me over him?_

"Brian!" he heard his father's voice, "are you okay? I heard a crash,"

"I'm fine dad," he called back.

"That's great son, in that case could you take the garbage out?"

"Dad I'm kinda busy,"

"Brian," his father cautioned, "it's Friday,"

Brian dragged himself up from the floor and reluctantly left the sanctuary of his room

He opened the front door slowly and peered around the side, spotting Jordan lingering on the porch. He picked up the garbage and made his way down to the dustbins. However, despite every attempt, he could not prevent the rattling noise as he lowered the lid of the bin back down. He caught sight of Jordan walking briskly across the road.

"Brian?"

Resigned, Brian looked up.

"Hey,"

"Hey. Do you know where Angela is? The house is like empty," Jordan indicated to the Chase's.

"I don't know, I think I saw them leave earlier. I mean I heard the car but I don't know where they went or anything,"

Jordan nodded, "so you and Angela were at the play the other night?" he asked casually.

"Yeah, she asked me if I wanted to go so I thought why not, you know, it might actually be good. I mean it was good,"

Jordan thrust his hands into his pockets and glanced up and down the street, "so she's okay and everything?"

Brian heard his voice crack a little and felt a strange sense of power "yeah, she's okay,"

Jordan nodded and went to turn away. Brian felt a sense of relief, but it was soon reversed when Jordan turned back.

"Does she like say anything about me? I mean," he leant toward Brian as if to confide in him, "you know we had a fight, right?"

"Yeah she mentioned something about it,"

"What did she say?" Jordan frowned.

Brian's head was buzzing, sifting through any number of explanations of what Angela had confided in him during the past few days.

"Just that-, that-," he stuttered, "that she felt you weren't being honest with her or something,"

Jordan sighed and ran his finger through his hair, "what is it with her? I mean," he contemplated his words, "do you _understand_ her?"

The question was asked in all sincerity and, if Brian had answered with similar honesty, then it would have been in the negative. He was well aware that, when it came to Angela, he had little more of an understanding of her than Jordan did. "She likes to have things her way, that's all,"

Jordan nodded as if Brian had just imparted some great ancient wisdom. "Are you still gonna be tutoring me, because I'm kinda falling behind in Katimski's?"

Brian swiftly weighed up the options, "I'm actually kinda busy right now,"

"Oh,"

"I mean I should never have signed up for the program in the first place, I'm pulling a triple minor as it is I mean I can't physically do it,"

"That's okay, I'll figure it out myself,"

What possible explanation is there for me feeling sorry for Jordan Catalano? I'm totally loosing it.

"Maybe if you write the assignment, I could look over it,"

Jordan nodded, "yeah that would be cool. See ya Brian,"

"Yeah, bye,"

_I owe him nothing. None of what has happened between him and Angela is anything to do with me. If he can't figure it out then that's his problem, not mine. It's not like Angela could ever seriously be like in love with that idiot._

Once back in his room Brian found himself once again slicking through the Phonics Manual until at last the piece of paper floated out from between the pages. He picked it up from the floor and unfolded it. It had become like a weight on his shoulders, it was the truth, and he was hiding it.

_But when I think about it, I am involved, like irrevocably. It's all in my hands. It's like everything Angela wants is true, it's there. But while she can't see it, she sees me. It's like a total Catch-22._

--

Angela arrived just after eight-thirty on Sunday night. Brian knew she was coming at eight-twenty eight because he had been watching the house on and off since the afternoon and had seen her stepping out of the door.

_I really need a hobby._

He checked himself in the mirror, something he had never really done until recently. He had had to peel off numerous stickers and old post-it notes in order to actually make use of it.

Angela was struggling with some biology work and Brian had agreed to help – obviously. They sat at kitchen table but Angela seemed distracted, Brian kept catching her staring off into the distance whilst he was trying to explain something. It frustrated him.

_It's not like there aren't other girls in school that I find, you know, interesting. There's this one girl in particular on the tutoring programme, and then of course there was Delia. But somehow none of them quite compare to Angela. Something about the way she is, is just different. The way she sees things, the way she's always analysing stuff. It's as if she's had a glimpse into the future and every so often she remembers something she saw and it's like some kind of warning or something that must be decoded._

He watched as she made a note of the explanation he had just given her about one particular theory. Brian watched with interest every smooth line of her handwriting as it appeared on the page.

_I mean obviously I find her attractive; I'm only human after all. But with her there's something else, something that sets her apart. I wish I could say I understood it; I wish I could say that Jordan was a fool for not being able to decipher her, but I can't. She's a puzzle to me, I don't know the formula, but maybe that's what makes her so--extraordinary._

"So it's done? I mean I'm finished?"

Brian was drawn out of his reverie by Angela's question. She was displaying a page of writing to him to check over, even though he had practically dictated it to her word for word and so obviously it would be correct.

"Yeah, that seems okay,"

"Right," she placed the sheet of paper into the textbook and closed it, bending down next to her chair to pick up her bag.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?"

Angela paused, "I should go home, my dad's saving me some dinner,"

"Oh," Brian stacked the three textbooks he had brought down to help Angela, "are you okay?"

She looked up at him.

"I mean, with the biology. You're sure you understand?"

"Enough to be going on with," she nodded, "thanks Brian,"

"You're welcome,"

Angela seemed to linger, as if there was something more.

"So apart from bio? You're okay, like in general?"

Angela turned to him, he could tell from the look in her eyes everything was not okay.

"Brian, would you ever lie to me?"

"Me? No, never," she shook his head.

"You lied about the letter,"

"That was different," he lowered his head, pretending to read something on the back of the textbook, "I would never do anything like that to you,"

She tucked her hair behind her ears; I love it when she does that. I bet Jordan Catalano never even notices it.

As Brian finally gathers enough courage to look up he realises she is looking straight at him. Not only that, she's actually smiling. He couldn't help but smile, it was partly genuine and partly a result of his embarrassment, "what?"

Angela shook her head, "how long have we known one another?"

"I don't know, I don't remember ever not knowing you,"

Angela lowered her gaze to the table; she slowly reached a finger out toward Brian's hand. He braced himself for the touch of her skin.

_Oh my God._

"Brian-," she was interrupted by the doorbell, and quickly drew her hand away.

Brian was reluctant to leave the table; sure that Angela was about to confess something important. But his father sometimes forgot his keys and Brian would be in serious trouble if he didn't let him in pretty sharpish. However as Brian approached the front door he noticed that the little dish, where they kept all the door keys, was empty. As he drew open the door Brian felt a strange sense of dread.

"Hey,"

"Hey,"

Jordan held out a slightly crumpled sheet of paper, "you said I could give you my work, for you to check it out or whatever. It's just I'm kinda on a last warning with Katimski,"

Brian took the sheet of paper.

"Brian?" Angela's voice could be heard from inside.

Jordan smirked, "you got a girl in there?"

Brian flushed and closed his eyes, as if bracing himself for a crash. Angela appeared behind him.

"Jordan?"

"Angela,"

"What are you doing here?"

"Jordan was just dropping off some work I said I would check for him,"

Angela frowned, "whatever. I'm done. I'm going home,"

"Okay," Brian stepped aside to let her pass.

Angela eyed Jordan as she passed him. Brian noticed how Jordan inhaled deeply as her hand brushed his.

Do you ever get the feeling you shouldn't be witnessing something?

Angela paused just behind Jordan. She turned back to Brian.

"So I'll see you in Bio tomorrow?"

Brian nodded enthusiastically "sure,"

Angela turned and made her way down the driveway. Jordan glanced up at Brian before turning away and following her.

"Angela,"

Brian took a few steps toward where Angela and Jordan stood face to face in the driveway. Angela moved closer to him, taking hold of the lapel of his jacket gently.

_The thing is, she looks at me differently to Jordan Catalano. She'll never see me the same way she sees him, I guess because I'll never look like him or be a rebel like him, or not care what people think._

Brian closes the front door as he disappears back inside. He walks back into the kitchen and sits in the chair where, until a few moments ago, Angela had been sitting. He opens her textbook and studies the page where she has written down his solution to the problem set by Chavatal. He picks up her pen and the words of the letter he wrote to her run through his mind.

_The truth of course is that I have lied to her. I've been lying to her for the last decade at least. Not explicitly, but keeping the truth from a person is the equivalent of a lie I guess. The truth is that I love her, like I've never loved anyone else. But when she looks at me, it's as a second choice and if I do truly care about her then I have to respect that._

Brian collected the textbooks and walked slowly up the stairs to his room. He looked out of his window at the pair still standing on his driveway. Angela was gesticulating wildly, clearly arguing with Jordan. Although, as ever, the argument was pretty much one sided, with Jordan simply standing there motionless, just taking it. Brian thought back to all of the times he and Angela had exchanged heated words, how he secretly loved to see her get fired up over something, even if it was anger at something he had done or said.

Brian whished he could lip read. He couldn't decide what he hoped would be the outcome of this exchange between the couple on his driveway. On the one hand he loved Angela, that he knew for sure, and so part of him hoped this night would mark the end for Jordan Catalano. But on the other hand, what did he have to offer? Sure, they'd known each other forever but surely if it was meant to be it would have--been by now? Something about the last few days hadn't felt right, Brian wasn't all that familiar with the terminology of relationships but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that he was some sort of rebound.

_I guess it's kind of like when there's something you really want, like a book--or possibly something a normal 15 year-old would realistically want. So you save up for it, like every day you get a little bit closer, and then one day you visit to the store at night and someone's left the door unlocked. So you go in and you get the book--or whatever--and for a few days it's like great, everything you imagined it could be. But then you realise--it's not. It's like tainted._

He lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining how things might have been different if he had somehow prevented Angela from ever having come into contact with Jordan Catalano. But is it even fair for him to wish that? Everything happens for a reason doesn't it?

There was a brief knocking on his door, Brian quickly pushed himself off the bed and opened the door to reveal a puffy eyed Angela.

"Oh, hey, I thought you might have gone home,"

Angela, clearly feeling rejected by the suggestion, went to turn away.

"I mean, I'm not saying you have to--go home,"

He watched her as she slowly turned back to him, her hand rising to her face to wipe away a stray tear and clumsily push back her hair.

Brian wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. Angela Chase like crying in his room isn't exactly the kind of thing Phonic Manual prepares you for. Before he even knew what he was doing Brian had draped an arm around Angela's shoulders. To his surprise she didn't pull away but moved closer to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Did Catalano say something to upset you?"

"No," was the only reply.

"Are you wearing mascara?"

Angela lifted her face from his shoulder and wiped her eyes, "for God's sake Brian,"

Brian checked his shirt quickly, "sorry I just-, my mom would probably have some kind of fit from the excitement if she found make-up on me,"

Angela took a deep breath.

"Do you wanna sit down or something?" Brian attempted to maintain a calm tone.

She walked over to the desk chair and sat down, crossing her legs.

"You can have the blanket if you want, I put it there because the chair is by the window and sometimes there's a draught,"

Angela turned to locate the blanket on the back of the chair; she unfolded it and wrapped it around her shoulders. Brian, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the whole situation, sat on the edge of the bed.

Angela looked out of the window.

"I think he's gone," Brian informed her.

He watched as Angela pulled the blanket further around her shoulders.

"So you were talking for a long time,"

"Brian,"

"What?"

"Don't,"

He pulled his knees up under his chin and waited.

"Do you think it gets easier than this?"

Brian looked up.

"Do you think when we get old we'll understand?"

"I don't think so," he replied.

Angela smiled, "you don't know Brian, because you've never been through anything like this,"

Brian found himself overcome by an anger he hadn't expected, "what? How can you say that?"

Angela seemed to be taken aback by the sudden outburst.

Brian stood up to emphasis his point "you have no idea Chase. You're so busy with your own issues you don't even bother to consider anybody else's feelings,"

"Yes I do,"

"Really,"

Brian set about tidying away some items from his desk, "you know I actually feel sorry for Jordan Catalano. I mean it must be really difficult for him having to deal with your constant selfishness,"

"Brian," Angela exclaimed, agog at his declarations.

_What the hell, in for a penny …_

"You know how I feel about you don't you? You know and you have continued to torment me. So don't come here crying to me about how hard it is for you,"

Brian slowly opened the drawer of the desk and took out the Phonics Manual, he opened the book and took out the slip of paper that had been haunting him for weeks.

"Why do you put up with me?" Angela asked at last.

"Because I'm a glutton for punishment obviously,"

_Because I love you, because I think I've always loved you, probably always will. But maybe that's just it; maybe I'm just in love with the tragedy of it all. Maybe in twenty years it'll be my turn._

"Look, if I give you something, something that I think might be important to you, don't start reading something grandiose into it okay?"

"What?" she shook her head in confusion.

Brian held out the piece of paper to her.

"What is this Brian?"

"Just read it okay,"


	10. Chapter 10

_There's something about that coat, that sheepskin coat that just makes him seem so vulnerable, like you kinda imagine him being cold and putting it on, being grateful for its warmth._

Angela took hold of the lapel of the jacket and ran her finger across the soft sheepskin. She felt its warmth, but also his.

"You don't have to say it," he said quietly.

Angela focussed on the coat. It reminded her of the time when Jordan was just a fantasy, when she spent hours obsessing about every aspect of him, all perfection. Before he became like an actual part of her life, and he wasn't so perfect after all. She withdrew her hand.

"I can't believe we're here again," she shook her head.

"Angela," in barely a whisper.

"Such a fool. I mean I knew, I knew it couldn't work," she tucked her hair behind her ears.

"So this is it?"

She looked up at him, "it's pointless Jordan. We tried and-," shaking her head, "we just got hurt again,"

Jordan gritted his teeth "I don't understand Angela, it just seems so stupid,"

"What's not to understand? You're not the person I thought you were,"

"I'm not the person you thought you could make me,"

Angela, slightly stunned by the profound declaration, took a step backward in surprise, "I never tried to make you anything,"

"Yes you did. You wanted me to change; you, you-," he stuttered, "wanted to change me into some kind of perfect person, like that Brian kid. I'm not perfect Angela," he held his hand to his heart.

"You're not, I never expected you to be. I just wanted someone who would be honest with me. You wouldn't even tell me your own father's name,"

Jordan shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"You confide more in Rayanne than you do in me." The anger made it difficult for Angela to control her breathing; she took shallow frantic breaths, fighting back tears and words.

Jordan, unable to simply stand there and watch her in distress, wrapped his arm tentatively around her waist and pulled her close to him. He felt her take hold of his coat and hold herself tighter to his body. He felt a tear fall from her cheek on to his neck; it seemed to burn his skin. Eventually Angela pulled away, she straightened his collar.

"I guess we just go back to being friends,"

Jordan let go of her and took a step back, he shook his head, "we don't make good friends,"

Angela wiped another tear away; they were falling regardless of how much she bid them not to, "we can try," she smiled through the tears in an attempt to restore some optimism though in truth she felt little herself.

Jordan too seemed to be struggling, he turned to look up the street and Angela could clearly see his eyes were glossy. "I'm sorry I'm not the person you see in your head. I'm not perfect, I don't have the perfect family or say the right things,"

"You don't say anything at all," Angela corrected.

Jordan shifted his weight from one foot to the other and dug his fingernails into his palms in frustration, "okay, well I guess that's it then,"

Angela nodded slowly. She felt Jordan take hold of her hand; he raised it to his chest and pressed it against his heart, leant in, and kissed her.

--

Angela wasn't exactly sure what had compelled her to return to Brian's rather than home, but as Brian held out the folded piece of paper toward her she couldn't help but think perhaps it had been a decision of fate.

"Just read it okay,"

The paper was crumpled. Why is boy's paper always crumpled, like they don't know how to look after paper properly? It's really not that hard to keep a piece of paper like not crumpled.

Angela took a deep breath as she unfolded the paper to reveal familiar handwriting and a familiar spelling mistake.

_Dear Angella._

She half re-folded the paper; unsure as to whether she actually wanted to read the rest.

"I guess it's what he meant to say before I-," Brian shook his head and began to turn toward the door, "I just figured you might want to read it,"

"Why did you keep this?"

"I didn't," he lingered, not wanting to look up at her, "not on purpose, he put it in the text book,"

Angela looked back down at the letter.

"I'm gunna go do some research for bio,"

She paused as Brian collected a couple of books from the desk and left, she heard his footsteps making their descent down the stairs.

_You know I'm not good at this but when I try and speek to you like in school and stuff I just clam up and can't say the right thing. I just make things worse and I don't want to do that. I have dreams sometimes where I know exactly what to say to you and you say you forgive me. I know thats not what you feel like doing. I know you are angry with me and you are rite to be, I hate what I did to you. I hate how stupid I am sometimes. I wish I could tell you everything that I feel about you, like maybe in a poem or something. But I can't. I don't have the rite words and if I can't say it rite then I don't want to say it because you deserve the best words, the most beutiful words because you are beutiful. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you these things properly but I'm not good at it, I've never lerned it and I know you hate that but I want you to know that even though I don't tell you about them, the feelings are there and I'll never be more sorry than I am now._

_Jordan_

Angela wiped a tear from her face and quickly glanced out of the window just in case Jordan was still there, but she couldn't see any sign of him. An extraordinary mix of emotions overcame her; the ecstasy of Jordan's words was replaced shortly after by a guilt that she could hardly bear. She had blamed Jordan for being the way he was, everything he had said to her, everything Brian had accused her of, was all true.

Downstairs she found Brian sitting quietly in the dining room. He didn't seem to notice her at first; not because he was absorbed by the biology textbook but because he was staring off into space, idly folding the corners of the pages over.

"Brian?"

He started and quickly shut the book. Angela moved to the table and took a seat next to him, holding the letter in front of her.

"I guess you read it then,"

She nodded.

Brian sighed; he pulled the textbook toward him as if it gave him some comfort, "those things I said earlier, I didn't mean them,"

"No, you were right. I've done wrong by everyone. Especially you,"

"It doesn't matter,"

"Yes it does. I led you to believe there was something between us when there wasn't,"

"No you didn't. I never really believed you could choose me over him. I mean why would you?"

"Brian, there are so many reasons why,"

He looked up and realised she was speaking honestly. There was a moment of silence; not necessarily an awkward silence, more an understanding silence.

"So I'd better-," she indicated to the letter.

"Yeah," Brian replied quickly.

He watched her leave, still clinging to the biology textbook like some kind of comfort blanket but happy, in a way, in the knowledge that he had been honest.

--

Jordan sat in the darkness of the Chase's porch. He glanced down at his watch, ten-thirty, and thought about going home. Just as he was about to stand he heard raised voices emanating from indoors. The front door flew open a moment later and Graham rushed past him and climbed into the car waiting on the drive. Jordan was thankful for the gloom of the porch that rendered him invisible to any passing Chase. His memory threw up the times that he had waited in the darkness of the porch of his own home when his parents were fighting and more recently when he had wanted to avoid his father. The front door flew open a second time and Patty emerged, looking fraught and upset. She ran down the steps of the porch just as Graham's car disappeared down the street. Resigned to the fact that her husband would be spending the night on the sofa at his brother's – she hoped – Patty slowly turned back toward the house. She gasped as something moved in the shadows of the porch.

"Jordan Catalano?"

Jordan stepped into the light.

"Are you trying to put me in the hospital?" she held her hand against her chest.

"Sorry,"

Patty stepped back up on to the porch, adjusting a stray hair and dabbing beneath her eyes with a tissue.

"Angela's out,"

"Would it be okay if I waited here?"

"Do what you want," she disappeared inside and shut the door behind her.

Jordan sat back down on the slatted floor and pulled his knees up to his chest. He felt like a child again, helpless and slightly embarrassed by the realisation that adults have like emotions too.

Just as his mind was drifting back to the numerous times he had locked himself away in his room to avoid yet another confrontation with his father the front door opened again and Patty reappeared.

"You might as well wait inside,"

Reluctant as he was to face an emotional Patty, Jordan found himself standing and following her inside.

He sat at the table, she poured him a glass of milk and stood at the sink looking out of the window.

"I suppose you're wondering what you've walked into,"

Jordan focussed on the glass of milk, he was reminded of the night he had sat at the very same table with Graham and suspected him of keeping some sort of secret.

"Ever since we were teenagers Camille has always prided herself on knowing better than me, she's going to love this." Patty seemed to realise suddenly that she had spoken aloud. "He's just gone to stay with his brother," she collected some dishes from the worktop and placed them in the sink, "I told him he should go,"

Jordan took a sip of milk and recalled the Christmas morning spent sitting next to unopened presents whilst his father called round everyone they knew trying to locate his mother, convinced that she was just overreacting and would be back with just some subtle persuasion.

At length, Patty turned, "will you tell Angela when she gets back, I'm going to bed."

Jordan felt a cold chill run up his spine; he ran his finger up the side of the glass, collecting the condensation that had gathered there from the coldness of the milk. He remembered the sound of his father slamming his bedroom door and then the sound of the clock on the mantelpiece as it ticked away the seconds of a Christmas spent alone.

He finished the glass of milk and washed up the glass. He found himself wandering into the living room, examining the framed photographs on the surfaces there, of the Chase family on various vacations and at events. As he ascended the stairs he thought of sitting there on the staircase listening to his father arguing on the phone to his mother-in-law, begging to be told where his wife had gone.

Jordan pushed open the door of the room at one end of the corridor and knew at once it was Angela's. He knew her scent well enough by now, and if not then the plaid shirt hanging on the mirror was sufficient evidence to be sure. The door to the closet was open and Jordan couldn't shake the urge to curl up inside it like he would sometimes, until just a few years ago, after he had argued with his father. It was the only place he ever felt truly safe. A sound behind him caused him to spin around. Angela appeared in the doorway.

"Jordan!?"

He had just enough time to thank God he hadn't succumbed to the urge to curl up in the closet, how the hell would he have explained that?

"What are you doing in here?"

Jordan realised there was no easy explanation, "your mom let me in,"

Angela looked doubtful, "what are you doing in my room? Jordan you have to go,"

The front door could be heard opening. Angela turned and ran to the staircase. Jordan sat on the edge of the bed; he could hear the conversation outside.

"Dad?"

"Angela, I thought you were at Brian's?"

"I came home. Where are you going?"

"I forgot my wallet, I'm staying at Uncle Neil's,"

"Why?"

There came no reply.

"Dad? Why? Why are you going? Where's mom?"

The front door closed.

He looked down at the floor as Angela walked slowly back into the room.

"Did you know about this?"

Jordan shook his head, "your mom just said to tell you he'd gone to stay at his brother's,"

She stood motionless for a few moments as the events of the evening sank in. He noted the tell tale trembling of her chin and quickly pulled her toward him, sitting her down on the bed next to him. He noted the piece of crumpled paper in her hand; she released it as she sat down. Jordan picked it up and unfolded it, realising immediately what it was.

"Where did you get this?"

Angela looked up at him, she had momentarily forgotten about the prior events, "it was in the Phonics Manual, Brian found it,"

"Did you read it?"

She nodded.

Jordan felt the blush rise in his cheeks at the idea of Angela reading something so honest, but this was followed by an equal sense of relief that his feelings had been made known to her. "I had this dream, like after the car crash. I dreamt that you like-, that you died,"

Angela frowned, unsure as to where this was headed.

"It felt like-, kinda like when my mom left. As though the oxygen was gone or something, like in the air, I couldn't breathe. Or I didn't want to," he picked at a rough nail before continuing, "we never found out where she went, I don't even know if she's got other kids now or anything. My dad and me just kinda had to carry on. We were never really tight, I mean we didn't exactly get along, you know. We'd fight sometimes, not just words," he took a deep breath, "sometimes I wish he'd just stop blaming me and be my dad," he tucked his hair behind his ears, "you're lucky you know, your parents would never let their problems like hurt you,"

Angela looked up at him, her heart ached at the thought of him trying his best to comfort her. She reached up to caress his cheek. He mirrored her action, wiping a stray tear from her cheek and stroking a single finger down her neck.

"I loved the letter," she whispered, "I always knew you could write like that if you wanted to, I mean I remember the song you wrote,"

"What song?"

"The Red song,"

"Oh, yeah, about the car,"

"The car? I thought that was about me?"

Jordan smiled.

Angela started giggling, slightly embarrassed, "it wasn't?"

Jordan shook his head, still smiling.

"Oh my God, I thought it-," she laughed.

"I wouldn't sing about you like that,"

"Oh, no, I mean obviously," Angela scoffed as if to go along with the idea that it would be like totally stupid.

"I mean I wrote songs about you,"

"You did?"

"Yeah, like a whole book full," he ran a hand up her back and into her hair, "I wouldn't sing them in public like that. I don't know, it would ruin it or something,"

Angela smiled and placed her hand over his as it rested on his knee.

"Do you want me to stay?" Jordan looked up at her, "I mean, not like that, just like you know,"

She smiled, finding it strange how Jordan's vagueness now seemed so endearing whereas before it had made her so angry.

"It's just when my mom left I would have liked it, you know, like if someone was there,"

Angela felt herself brought back down to earth, back to the realisation that all was not well with the Chase family unit, "do you think he'll come back?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

Angela sighed, tucking up her knees and lying down on the bed behind Jordan.

"Please stay," she whispered.

_Is it like a law of nature or something that the true depth of a person isn't revealed to you until you've become absolutely convinced that they're like totally shallow? It must be some kind of a test, a really stupid test.  
_

**Okay, I think I'm going to leave it there. Thank you very much for reading and for leaving reviews. I apologise if my writing is a bit frustrating sometimes, I realise not an awful lot actually happens in my stories, they tend to be more like extended character studies really but thank you for sticking with it!! xx**


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